Light Ignites the Shadows
by DancingDoula
Summary: A curse as old as the world itself has been asleep in Storybrooke for 28 years. Now that Gold and Pan are gone and the waters have calmed, the residents of our sleepy town notice people going missing. Now that Emma has found true love, will the new power arising take it away? CS Multi-chapter fic. AU Pan's curse not cast.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't OUAT, unfortunately, those guys are making a mint!**

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Chapter 1

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The last rays of a setting sun cast a supernatural red glow over everything in the harbor. The quiet calm of the water barely lapping the bottoms of the ships whispered into the still air that all was well and right and good. An occasional groan of flexing wood was the only noise to disturb the tranquil evening.

Everything was peaceful, except his mind, and as if she had heard his thoughts, she materialized onto the deck of his ship.

She found him with his feet propped on a small barrel, leaning back against the railing of the deck. He was drinking, with a scowl on his face that complemented his depressing thoughts.

When he realized she was there, actually physically present, his mouth opened in surprise. He had no idea what she was doing there, her being so unexpected, like a phantom conjured at a witch's summons.

"What can I do for you, Swan?" he asked, taking a long draught from the flask he was holding.

Trying to answer, and looking unsure of herself, his expression softened.

"I don't know. I felt… I felt..." She had felt that he needed her, but how could she say that to him?

He watched her flounder, looking like the orphan she was, sad and lost in thought. "It's going to sound stupid, but I knew you were here, thinking about… her…Milah. I thought you might like some company."

"Well, love, I don't know that companionship is the _only_ thing on my mind," he smirked, "although if you'd care to join me for a drink, I'd be happy to share." He gestured to the deck next to him, inviting her to sit.

Unsure and slightly nervous, Emma accepted his invitation, placing herself on his right side, with a foot of space between their bodies. Hook removed his feet from the barrel, bent his knees in front of him, rested his hook on his legs, and handed Emma the flask.

She took a sip of the strong drink, wincing as it burned the back of her throat. What was she doing here? How could she possibly explain this to Mary Margaret or David, or even Henry? They'd been fighting Pan consistently for weeks (or was it months?), and she was tired of fighting—of fighting Regina for her son, of fighting the acceptance of her parent's love, of fighting Pan for her son's life, of fighting the past that Neal's presence constantly brought to mind, and of fighting her feelings for Hook.

And there it was, sitting in companionable silence, sharing a drink with the pirate, that Emma finally admitted to herself that she had feelings for him.

The knowledge sent an electric shock through her.

Hook watched her as she sipped his rum, gazed at her lips closing around the top of the flask, wishing he could be that same bottle. She looked pensive and tired. He could tell she was struggling with something, and that she would talk in her own time. He intended to let her have all the time in the world; when he had told Bae he was in it for the long haul, he had meant it.

Then suddenly, he felt magic. He had felt it before, especially when he was working with Cora—he recognized the tingle and the pop, well, almost a pop; it was hard to describe. He looked at her and noticed the faint glow that surrounded her. She looked bewildered, as though she didn't realize she was the source.

"What was that?" she asked, almost scared to know the answer.

Always quick with a reply, he grinned, "True love?" His ridiculous facial expression instantly broke the tension.

She almost laughed out loud, punching him on the shoulder and smiling. It was a good thing, or she might have fled from the realization that hit her like a ton of bricks.

As the rum warmed her belly and calmed her body, she relaxed next to him. It was visible, he noticed the way she slouched a bit more and stretched out her legs. She was wearing her favorite boots, tight jeans and tank top—her typical uniform, not that he was tired of it. Imagining what was under those tight-fitting trousers had set his mind ablaze on more than one occasion. Schooling his thoughts so that he didn't jump her then and there, he asked, "So what's on your mind, milady, which sent you down here this evening?"

Taking her time answering, not knowing how much she should share with him, she simply said, "It's complicated."

"Emma, you know you can trust me?" He meant it as a statement, but it came out as more of a question.

"I know."

And then she spilled it. Not knowing whether it was the rum, the warm night, the quiet water lapping against the base of the ship, or maybe that she finally knew, really knew, that she could trust him—with her life, with her son, and with her emotions—she told him, "Neal asked me out on a date, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. Before he fell through the portal, after he was shot, and I was sure he was going to die, I told him I loved him, and I meant it. I did love him… I…I do love him…And …"

Her declaration gave him hope, although he didn't move, not wanting to break her train of thought. It was unusual for her to open up, and he didn't want her to stop.

"And…," he said.

"And, well, I don't know quite what to do with you." There. She'd said it. She stared at the flask, willing him to say anything that didn't make her feel like a fifteen year old telling a boy in her class that she liked him. It was the closest she had ever come to giving Hook a verbal confirmation of the kiss they had shared in Neverland.

"I might have some ideas…," he declared cheekily. She looked at him then, knowing she had left herself wide open for that one, and grinned, watching as his bright blue eyes lit up with mischief. She relaxed against him then, not saying anything, just resting her head on his shoulder and scooting her legs next to his. He lifted his arm and put it around her, so that her face was on his chest. She curled into him, feeling safe for the first time in years. He started tracing circles on her thigh, enjoying the feel of her softness next to him.

Sitting in silence, they stared out at the water, or what they could see of it through the upright rails on the other side of the ship. The moon was full and the sky was clear. It really was a beautiful night.

Emma handed the flask back to Hook.

"About bloody time," he said, smiling and shifting so he could take another drink.

"Hey, I was distracted." She smiled too, enjoying the comfort of the quiet night. Hell, who was she kidding. It was the comfort of a certain pirate.

"Glad to be of service, milady."

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Sitting in the crow's nest of a ship on the opposite side of the harbor, a woman watched the couple with an odd mixture of remorse and glee. Even though the night air was as still as the calm before a storm, there was always a slight breeze blowing around her, as though she commanded the wind with her mere presence. She was dressed in black, blending into the dark night as though it was part of her. No one knew she existed unless she wanted them to.

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**Please give this fiction a chance-it takes about three to four chapters for things to really start moving... And all reviews are welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own OUAT.**

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Chapter 2

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Hours later, stiff and a little cold, Emma woke up, not even realizing she had fallen asleep. She was still in Hook's arms, his head resting on top of hers, gently snoring. She didn't move, not wanting to disturb his rest. He was so warm, and his body was all hardness under her half-reclining body. Moving her hand to the V of his vest, she gently stirred the soft dark hair that covered his chest. The relaxed beat of his heart under her cheek soothed her fears about having spent the night with him. She couldn't remember the last time she had let herself fall asleep with a man. In all of her relationships since Neal, she would get up and leave first, even in the middle of the night. Something about actually sleeping next to someone felt strangely intimate, and she was surprised that she had allowed herself the luxury with him.

The sky was just lightening up a bit, and she could hear the sounds of the fishermen preparing their boats to set sail for their catch of the day.

Hook shifted, lifting his head, remembering the night before. Surprised to find her still in his arms, he looked down at her and smiled.

"Good morning, beautiful."

She raised her chin to look into his eyes, so blue and intense, his expression sleepy and tender. She smiled and leaned into him, snuggling a little closer, trying to envelope herself in his heat. Her movement stirred the rest of his body wide awake, and he bent his face down to sweep his lips against hers.

At first she just inhaled his scent—rum and sea water, and something spicy like cardamom. Curious, she opened her mouth against his, kissing his bottom lip and tugging his mouth open so she could discover what else made up his scent—a scent she found intoxicating and familiar at the same time.

That was his undoing. Emma's responding to him was like a spark on tinder. He had waited so long for her to feel comfortable around him, so long for her to trust him, so long for her to want him. His hand slid from her thigh to cup her backside and pull her closer to his chest.

He kissed her with all the fervor that had been cooped up inside of him since Milah. He'd had other women, other "dalliances", but that's all they were. He knew it then and he knew it now. Nothing could compare with kissing a woman you loved.

Turning to face him, she readjusted her body so she was almost in his lap, and tangled her hands in his thick, dark hair, pulling him closer to her mouth. His arms encircling her, she felt his passion, had sensed it when they shared their last kiss. But that was a whim, an unexpected whim, a slip she hadn't planned on repeating. As he slanted his mouth over hers, he branded her with his lips, claiming her as his own. She had never felt so much longing directed at her—like she was the air he needed in order to keep breathing. This was hunger and yearning and electricity overwhelming her, consuming her. This had to stop.

That's when it happened again—the electric shock. It went in her and through her and through him too. The tremor charged the air around them like a bolt of lightening that had struck too close and dissipated immediately upon impact. Startled and confused, she sat back from him, looking at his mussed hair and swollen lips.

"What the hell _was_ that?" she almost shouted.

"You tell me, lass." The faint golden glow surrounded her again. He knew exactly what it was, but the frightened look on her face told him it was best he kept his thoughts to himself.

As if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on them, Emma moved off his lap and sat next to him, her knees under her. She felt slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge this intimate contact had brought to light. He had always seemed sincere in his affection, but perhaps she had misread the intensity of his intentions. Or was that her intentions? Maybe her feelings were a bit stronger than she originally thought, because that was more than a kiss; that was… recognition.

Confused, she said, "I guess I should get home before my household wakes up."

He cocked his head to the side. "Embarrassed about where you spend the night, Emma?" He saw the conflict in her face, understood the force of the emotions she was feeling. But he had had three hundred odd years of living and loving, and he had known for awhile that they shared something special. This knowledge wasn't new to him, and even if it was new to her, he watched as her carefully constructed facade popped back into place.

She looked at him earnestly then, not sure how to respond, wishing she could feel the same sense of comfort and safety she had the night before. But knowing that things always look different in the morning, and feeling a little self-conscious about the way she had behaved, she felt her walls of mistrust begin to reassert themselves slowly, as the sun got brighter and her dreams faded away.

"Ok, on that note, I'm leaving. See you later, Hook." She stood up and walked away, not even bothering to look back.

He was sad and yet coolly hopeful at the same time, the electric shock confirming what he knew in his heart. It had taken treks across worlds, magic, mayhem, and a life filled with regret, but Killian Jones had finally found his true love, and she would be back in his arms, hopefully sooner rather than later.

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As the morning sun peeked over the treetops in the forest and the wind gently stirred their leaves, she found her rest at last. It had been a night of revelations. Dreaming of revenge and true love, her thoughts began to piece together a plan that would restore her life and destroy Killian Jones forever.

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**A/N** _Ok, here's another chapter. Thank you to all who follow and fav! And thanks especially to Revenessa for her wonderful suggestions on fleshing this out with "atmosphere". You're the best! _

_Any reviews and constructive criticism are welcome. This is my first try at a multi-chapter fiction, with dialogue. CS is so inspiring! (as I'm sure you all know, LOL)!_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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Emma tiptoed through the door of the apartment she shared with her parents. When were they going to get their own place? She knew it was selfish, since they were actually living in Mary Margaret's apartment, and technically Emma should be looking for a place. Climbing the stairs as quietly as possible and gently closing her bedroom door, she heard Mary Margaret stirring around. Emma changed into her flannel pajama pants, hoping to avoid questions about being dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Going back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, she walked up behind Mary Margaret.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret shouted, piece of toast in hand, ready to bolt out the door for school. She and David had enjoyed a slow, tantalizing morning tryst that was worth being late for.

"I'm right here, you don't have to yell."

Mary Margaret whirled around to see Emma standing just behind her. Pleasantly distracted with the memories of her early morning activities, she hadn't noticed her daughter slip into the kitchen.

"I won't be able to meet you and Henry after school today. I have a late teacher's meeting that I had forgotten—we're planning the school picnic next month."

"That's ok. Henry will be disappointed. He said he had something he wanted to discuss with both of us, but I suppose it can be postponed."

"Great!" Mary Margaret rushed out the door, grabbing her bag as she left.

Draining her first cup of coffee and unable to suppress a tiny smile, Emma thought about Killian's last words to her. Embarrassment didn't describe her feelings; she just didn't want to define their relationship quite yet. Cautious by nature, or because of her past, Emma knew something special… something unusual… something… had happened, and she wanted to ponder that in her heart, keeping the intimacy of the morning hers, and only hers.

Suddenly, as if he were standing right there next to her, she heard him whisper, "Emma…," slowly and seductively. His breath tickled her ear, warm and close like a humid night. Shutting her eyes and running her hands down her sides from her chest to her waist, she hugged herself as her body flushed with pleasure, reddening her cheeks and warming her from head to toe. She could actually taste him again.

As the images slowly faded and her awareness returned, she opened her eyes, disappointed to find herself alone rather than in his arms. It was a shame she had to shower because his delicious scent covered her skin like a blanket.

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Smiling like a lovesick schoolboy, Killian didn't move for awhile after Emma left, savoring the recollection of events from the morning. Emma had come in search of him, looking for comfort, and her confiding in him pleased him immeasurably. For a long time after she had fallen asleep, he gazed at her, marveling at the feel of her skin, the soft caress of her hair against his chest, the smell of vanilla that permeated his senses. He had fought sleep for hours, cherishing the moment with her, knowing it might not last, and grasping whatever pleasure he could from it. Such moments were all too fleeting in his life.

Unfortunately, his head felt foggy and achy, and he knew he needed to move now if he didn't want to be sore all day.

A little unsteady on his feet, Killian walked to his cabin mentally listing the jobs planned for the day, the smile on his lips never faltering an inch. Now that Pan and the Crocodile were gone, he was mostly left alone, and had been working to restore the Jolly Roger. Neverland had taken its toll on the beautiful ship, and she needed some tender loving care. Never one to complain about work, Killian actually enjoyed the manual labor; it relaxed and rejuvenated him and gave him time to think. But being a one-man crew meant that the work was going to take some time, not that he minded.

Almost to his quarters, he stopped, suddenly assailed by an apparition of Emma, her back pressed against his body. Closing his eyes at the intensity, he could feel his arms cross in front of her, tugging her tightly to his chest. "Emma…" He could smell her hair, feel the tingle in his loins as her softness melted into him. He hugged her until the image slowly faded, and he opened his eyes, instantly perceiving his loss. It took him a minute to collect himself and remember where he was going.

Warm all over, he washed his face and changed into some worn leather pants and a loose shirt. He grabbed what he needed and set to work sanding a spot near the helm that had been splintered by one of Regina's magic fireballs, a song on his lips and a sparkle in his eye, because his perfect Swan had stayed the night with him.

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After another cup of coffee, Emma was ready to face her day. With Pan destroyed, Storybrooke would hopefully go back to being the sleepy little town it was. She and David were sharing the duties as sheriffs, she taking the morning shift, with his coming in around eleven to overlap her shift and then finishing out the day so that she could meet Henry most afternoons. She and Regina were working out a schedule with Henry, sharing alternate weeks, with Neal's visits scattered in among the evenings and weekends, now that he lived in his father's shop.

This being Regina's week, Emma drove to work alone, arriving in the office around 8:30 am. She went straight to her desk, frowning and trying desperately to clear her mind, hoping a little paperwork would do the trick. She had to focus on something other than the long-dead feelings Killian's kisses and conduct had awakened, just by letting her be herself, with no strings attached.

Glancing at her desk, she noticed a missing persons report, completed by David the evening before. This was the third one since she'd broken the curse, which wasn't too unusual considering the treacherous characters that had recently graced Storybrooke's streets.

The homeless man who lived outside the Rabbit Hole was missing. He had become such a fixture, always asking if someone had enough cash for a drink, that his disappearance did not go unnoticed. No one had ever seen him go very far from the bar, if he left at all. Remembering Katherine Nolan's kidnapping, Emma silently hoped that this wasn't the beginning of yet another difficult case. With any luck he would turn up soon.

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"Hey, kid," Emma said as she walked next to Henry. It was Tuesday, so they were on their way to Granny's for their customary hot chocolate. "What did you want to talk to me about?" The bright, calm weather and getting to spend time with Henry did much to marshal Emma's wayward thoughts.

"Well, it was supposed to be you and Mary Margaret. But I guess you'll do." Emma smiled at his comment, ruffling his hair.

Reaching Granny's, they sat down and ordered from Ruby, effervescent as usual. She took their order and moved off to serve other customers.

"So what's up?" Emma asked Henry.

"I wanted to do something special for David's birthday coming up, something different." Henry wiggled excitedly in his seat, looking at his mom earnestly.

"What, like a surprise party?" Her eyebrows went up, fearing how Mary Margaret might interpret _surprise party_.

"No, that's not special, that's _normal_," he drawled out, like it was a bad thing. Emma felt she could do with a bit of normal, but she didn't want to discourage Henry, so she asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking, what if we had a sword made for him, like the one he used to carry in the Enchanted Forest?"

"Yeah, because there are so many opportunities for swordfights in Storybrooke," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at the thought.

"I know, Mom, I was just thinking that he might like one. You know how you see those Japanese swords hanging on people's walls? It could be like… like a reminder of who he is."

Emma was quiet for a moment, thinking. Gift-giving was not her forte, and so it took her a minute to put herself in David's shoes. "You know, kid, I think he might like that. Do you have any ideas of where we could get it made?"

Henry brightened at her assent and said, "Of course! The blacksmith."

"Of course," Emma deadpanned. Only in Storybrooke would they find a blacksmith that for sure made swords for the everyday use. The thought of a blacksmith and talking about swords brought Killian to mind, and Emma had to fight to pay attention as Henry continued.

"He lives on the edge of town, working in the steel factory."

That caught her notice. "We have a steel factory?" Emma asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Sure. It's a small one though, mainly manufacturing the parts for boats and small hardware."

"Ok, we'll check it out one day after school. David's birthday is a month away, and I'd still like for you to run this by Mary Margaret before we go to the expense."

"Cool!" Henry exclaimed, thrilled to have thought of a way to repay his grandfather for all the fun sword-fighting lessons he was getting. He was the luckiest kid in school to be the grandson of the great Prince.

Downing the rest of her chocolate, and just remembering that she wanted to talk to Ruby, Emma asked Henry to wait outside.

"Hey, Ruby, what can you tell me about Joe, the man who's gone missing?"

Ruby's customary toothy grin faltered at the question. Looking serious and somewhat confused, she asked, "You mean Joe who's always outside The Rabbit Hole?"

Emma nodded and Ruby went on, "Not much. I went out Friday night and he was there. I had no idea he was missing."

"The owner of the bar said he was locking up Sunday night and noticed Joe was gone. And we all know Joe doesn't go very far, nor for long."

"Hmm… Well, I can't say that I've seen him since Friday."

"Is there any chance he was sick?"

"Maybe, it's not like I talked to the guy or anything. Why do you ask _me_?" Emma cocked her head to the side a bit and looked at Ruby square in the face. "What? Do you think I _ate_ him?"

Grinning and relaxing her stance, Emma said, "No, I'm just teasing you. I imagine he'll turn up soon. Let me know if you hear anything."

"Sure thing, sheriff." Ruby waved, shaking her head and chuckling at her friend as she left.

Emma strolled out of Granny's to join Henry for the walk back to the apartment where they'd stay until Regina picked him up. She'd talk to David later tonight and see if any other clues had turned up.

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She always woke before the last of rays of sunlight faded from view. Careful to stay where she was until the day was completely gone, she used the time to reflect on her night ahead. She had to report to work by 8:30 pm, so that gave her about an hour to roam. She was grateful she only worked four nights a week, or else she'd go crazy stuffed in the tiny rooms underground. When she felt the walls closing in on her, if it was a slow night, she'd slip out, making sure she was back before the lab manager came in. She would hand over any reports from the night before, trusting his loyalty and their solid working relationship.

Working as a coroner in the morgue, she knew every muscle, sinew and bone in the body; had studied anatomy for decades. She respected the intricacies and inner workings of all the cells and organs as she lovingly autopsied anyone needing one. She loved solitude, the silence of the night, the company of corpses who spoke with wounds and scratches, bruises and broken bones, collapsed arteries and failed organs. Nobody bothered her—she was the doctor in charge; she could do anything that needed to be done in the evenings, and she was good at her job, so no one said a word about her strange schedule, keeping her satisfied and content with her hushed life.

That was before.

After the curse was broken, she remembered who she was and who she wanted to be. And her insatiable thirst was back.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

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Wednesday morning broke clear and blustery, a perfect spring day. Killian planned on going into town for more sandpaper, sponges, and linseed oil for the deck of the boat. He figured he'd just continue to lie low, like he had since they returned from Neverland, working on his boat, not actively seeking Emma out, even though only a day had gone by since she had woken in his arms and every cell in his body longed for her presence. He didn't want to pressure her, especially since she had finally seemed to warm to the idea of his being more than just a _one time thing_ in her life.

With thoughts of his beautiful lass on his mind, he sauntered into town, enjoying the cool breeze ruffling his hair, deciding to pick up a few things from the grocery store too.

He loved the grocery store. It promised a smorgasbord of delectable treats, wrapped in clear… plastic… they called it, which always felt a little slippery in his fingers. Biscuits were soft when he opened their packages, instead of the bricks to which he was accustomed. In fact, most of the food in this world was soft and easy to chew. He enjoyed not having to work so hard to digest all of his meals.

He walked inside the grocery, greeted with the smell of fresh bread baking, and following his nose to the bakery, he picked out a loaf. He also purchased a block of cheese, some beef jerky and several apples, content with the simplicity of these meals. It reminded him of home. And with everything else in this world to which he was slowly adjusting, any small comfort of routine was welcome.

Some changes were expected, like the need for currency. Belle had helped him with that, surprisingly enough, she _had_ to be the most forgiving person in existence. She had seen him paying with gold coins at Granny's one day and offered to help him change some money, figuring he'd have something he could sell. She was right; he had barrels of gold coins and chests of jewelry. She helped him pick out a few pieces and took him to the local pawn shop for some quick cash. When the owner saw the quality of the items, he referred Killian to a buyer in Portland who specialized in antique, European styled jewelry, in case Killian had anymore pieces to sell. The buyer would be able to obtain better prices. Killian had yet to make the journey outside the city, having garnered enough cash for the next several weeks ahead.

Other things held unexpected surprises, like showers. The harbor master had stopped by one day, asking Killian if he was living on his boat. After learning that the Jolly Roger had no water or electrical hookups, he offered Killian the use of the private showers under the harbor office, which was set ten feet up on piers and beams. He had spent an hour in his first hot shower, glorying in the feel of the fresh water over his skin. Sea water baths were cleansing, but often left one feeling sticky at the end of them.

He also enjoyed hamburgers and french fries from Granny's, and even though he'd never admit it out loud, he liked the cheap rum at the Rabbit Hole. It didn't intoxicate him as quickly as his own, and the flavor was nice, even if it was a bit watery.

He walked into the hardware store, looking around for the owner, an elderly gentleman named Daniel Albright, who had graying hair and kind eyes. Happy to discover that the shop owner was quite informed on restoration techniques, Killian had asked many questions on previous visits. He had learned for instance that a palm-sander was a wonderful tool, saving loads of time when polishing large portions of the deck. He simply had to plug it into the power cord supplied by the harbor as part of the docking fees. Today's trip was only for replenishing the supplies that were quickly dwindling with all the attention the Jolly was receiving, but seeing Daniel's friendly face brought a smile to Killian's, and they exchanged small talk while he made his purchases.

Leaving the hardware store, laden with bags and looking at the sky that seemed to have darkened suddenly, he didn't see Emma as he turned the corner to the docks. She must have been distracted too because she ran right into him, causing him to drop everything he was carrying, catching her in his arms in response. Her hands pressed into his shoulders as she regained her footing, startled by the unexpected contact.

"Whoa, lass, where're you off to in such haste?"

"Oh, Hook, I'm sorry. I was…"

He cut her off with, "Hoping to run into me? Although, maybe not quite so literally," he said cheerfully, cocking his head at her and beaming from ear to ear, elated to see his Swan.

"Yeah, that's it," Emma said straight-faced, surprised she could keep her self-possession when he was this close. Helping him pick up his bags, she ran her eyes down his body, noticing the older pair of leather pants he was wearing, worn to a soft charcoal gray instead of his usual black. The supple leather molded to his legs, accentuating the muscles underneath. His white shirt was pushed up at the sleeves and open at the chest. She remembered the feel of his chest hair under her fingers and colored at the thought. When she handed him the rest of his bags, her breath caught as her eyes took in his handsome features. She loved it when he stared at her like she was the only woman in the world for him.

Averting her eyes, and trying to look impassive, she asked, "What is all this?"

Killian had noticed her slow appraisal of his body while she helped him with the bags, but instead of teasing her, out of respect for her discomfort, he replied, "Just supplies for restoring some of the rough bits on the deck of the Jolly. A sailor has to take advantage of the calm between the storms since he doesn't get much warning when the next one will hit." He winked at her, happy to be having any kind of conversation that wasn't completely awkward—for her anyway.

"Right. Actually, I was hoping to ask you some questions about Joe," she said, assembling her thoughts back into order and regaining her composure.

Disappointed that she sought him out for reasons completely unrelated to the other night, Killian's face fell with his question, "Joe? Who's Joe? and why would I know anything about him?" He sounded a little defensive but she didn't seem to notice.

Emma filled him in and was frustrated to learn nothing new. No one had seen Joe since his reported disappearance, and she was hoping that Killian might have observed him wandering near the docks.

"Oh well, thanks for your help, and good luck with all the work on the ship." She turned and walked away, hiding her desire to prolong their conversation somehow, but unable to think of anything else to say.

Killian was absolutely not listening while she was talking about the missing man. Enthralled with the way her mouth formed her words, he wished he could run his tongue over her soft wet lips. His eyes were so caught up in the motion that when her last words finally registered, he realized she was leaving and panicked, desperate to keep her by his side, where she belonged.

Several steps away, she heard him shout, "Hey, Swan!"

Emma turned back to look at him, ridiculously trying to balance all his bags, when he asked, "I'll be done for the day around six. I would be honored if milady would join me for supper?" The slight lilt in his voice couldn't hide the hesitancy he felt as he asked. He didn't want to be rejected again.

He was asking her out on a date. As the question registered in her mind, Emma found herself plagued with conflicting thoughts. Should she allow this… this… whatever it was between them to progress? Should she wait awhile and settle into the new rhythm of her life? Choosing the safe option, she decided to postpone what was turning out to be inevitable. "I… I don't think that's a good idea. I have a missing persons case to solve that looks like it's going to be more involved than I originally thought," she replied, continuing to protect her heart out of habit.

Noticing the apprehension in her face, his expression faltered for the second time in their conversation, and he actively fought the frustration bubbling to the surface. Why did she always hide behind work or some other mission? When was she going to face that they were more than just acquaintances? She neglected to see that she didn't have to be alone anymore. She deserved to be cherished, loved, adored, and he wanted to be part of her adventures, her fears, her problems and her life.

Recovering quickly and unwilling to let an opportunity escape, he said, "Then I'll meet you at 6:30 pm and we can go scouting for clues. I was quite the tracker back in my day." he winked, desperate to hide his anxiety that she might continue to turn him down.

"Yeah, and how long ago was that?" she asked acerbically.

"I didn't see you complaining in Neverland." He lowered his eyes at her and tilted his head down as if looking over the top of imaginary eyeglasses.

He was right, of course. She knew he was as good at finding people as she was, knew she could probably use the help, but the question was whether or not she could keep her mind on the case and not on his too blue eyes that were imploring her to accept his offer.

Surrendering to his pleading look, she sighed, "Alright, then, you can come along. But I call the shots, got it?" She pointed a finger towards him.

"As you wish." He inclined his head toward her, smugly smiling because he had obtained his goal, then turned to walk back to the Jolly. He found himself whistling a bawdy tune with a lightened step.

Emma watched him walk away, shaking her head back and forth, smiling to herself. How was she going to keep her wits when he was around?

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Driving to the steel factory after school, Henry discussed his ideas for David's sword with Emma, a plan Mary Margaret had totally approved since David had lost his beloved sword in Neverland. The kid had brought his book, which had a nice rendering of Charming's original sword, that he hoped the blacksmith could use as a guide. Emma smiled and shook her head, her son really was a wonder, creative and fun and rather thoughtful for an eleven year old.

The steel factory was small, not much larger than a big workshop. Walking in through the aluminum door on the side of the building, the heavy air smelling of burned metal and grease, Emma and Henry finally spotted a short, round man with a balding head and long mustache. After gaining his attention, he walked over and introduced himself.

"How'd you do?" he asked, "The name's Drierson," he said without waiting for an answer, his voice thick with an Irish brogue. His leather apron was stained with black fingerprints and large smudges, and his face had a dark sheen of sweat mixed with the black dust from the shop. He offered his blackened hand to Emma and Henry, so pleased to have visitors.

Responding before Emma could, and slightly bouncing with enthusiasm, Henry buzzed, "I'm Henry, and this is my mom, Emma. We're here to see if you can make us a sword."

"Rightly fine to meet you both. Hmm… Emma… you're the new sheriff right?" At her nod he continued, "Well, it's been many years since I've made a sword, but I suppose it's like riding a horse, once you learn, you can't rightly forget. Do you have a design?"

Henry showed Drierson the picture in his book, instantly liking the stocky man whose smile was jolly and bright. Drierson loved his work, and he especially loved fashioning things with a purpose. He had made many a sword back in the Enchanted Forest, and this one would prove to be a nice change from the screws and small machine parts that he was usually commissioned to make.

Emma quietly shook her head, marveling as the older man and her son discussed the details of the design as though Henry were an expert in metallurgy. Henry was in his element.

"Rightly so, rightly so, young fella," he responded to Henry's description of the handle. "I can have it ready for you in 2 weeks time, and since this is a special sword for the prince, I'll even give you a break on the price."

Grinning from ear to ear, Henry shook the man's hand and made the deal.

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Emma collected Hook from the Jolly Roger at 6:30 pm. He was dressed in his usual black leather pants, including the vest, looking ragged.

"What's up? You look as if you've seen better days."

"Ran into a couple of misfortunes—several holes from Regina's blasted fireballs are going to require new planks, and I just found a section of railing that's loose and needs to be replaced. I was hoping for just a bit of sanding and oiling," he complained, frustrated with the snowballing of his project.

"You know, we can postpone this if you can't handle it," she mocked, with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, punctuating the 'it' and echoing his inflection from their conversation in Neverland.

He gently brushed a golden lock of hair behind her ear, smirking devilishly and leaning forward until he could whisper in her ear, "Not on your life, lass. I wouldn't miss a stake-out with you for all the treasures in the giant's lair."

Covered in goosebumps and shivering at his touch, she noticed how his grin softened his tired eyes and she realized he was probably glad for the change of scenery.

Stepping back with smiling eyes, Emma nodded, "Alright then, back to work. Since no one has seen Joe in town, I thought maybe we could drive to the forest and scout the edges, check out the toll bridge and any campsites we come across."

"Sounds like a good plan." He was glad he had offered to join her, wondering if David knew she had intended to scout on her own. Fiery though she was, his Swan could take care of herself, but he worried about her safety now and then.

It took them less than fifteen minutes to reach the section of forest she wanted to search. Emma grabbed a couple of flashlights and a backpack from the back seat of the car. Handing a flashlight to him, she started off in the direction of the toll bridge, until she realized he wasn't following her. "Oi, pirate, what're you waiting for?"

Fiddling with the light, turning it this way and that, he shouted back at her, "What is this thing and how do I get it to illuminate like yours?"

Emma shook her head and trotted back toward him. "Here. You turn it on like this." She took the flashlight from him and showed him how to turn it off and on a couple of times, brushing his hand as she returned it. Flushing a little and definitely not thinking about how wonderful he smelled, she started off again, ready to get to work, which required avoiding his close proximity.

"I wish _you_ were that easy to turn on." He spoke just loud enough for her to hear him.

She groaned, but didn't break her stride, afraid to confront the look that must surely be on his face, knowing she wouldn't be able to control the desire his expressions invoked.

They walked as fast as possible in the direction of the toll-bridge, sweeping the lights in front of them as they went, trying to take in as much scenery as possible since night had fallen. The air was thankfully clear, with a very slight breeze keeping the humidity at bay. The moon was just past full, lighting the tops of the trees and creating long shadows near the ground. It was a nice night for a walk, or a scouting mission such as this was.

Lost in thought, Emma didn't hear Killian's question until he'd asked it twice.

"Wh… what?"

Killian shook his head, amused by her distraction. "I asked, 'what are we looking for specifically?'" He hoped she was as agitated by his closeness as he certainly was by hers. She was wearing her red jacket over a white shirt; he hoped it was a tank top. When she warmed up she always took the jacket off to reveal her lovely, well-toned arms. Her jeans hugged her backside, inviting him to admire the view every time she took the lead.

"I was thinking that maybe Joe wandered off in the woods. Todd, the owner of the Rabbit Hole, said he thought Joe might have been ill. That got me to thinking that maybe Joe decided to go off alone, especially if he didn't feel well."

"You mean, like an animal would do?"

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of what a loner would do."

"That's certainly diplomatic of you," he teased. He knew she held no ill-will against anyone even though she often had reason to.

"Hey, look here!"

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Wandering the forest, blending in with the shadows, she heard the pair long before she saw them. In the breaks of their conversation, she listened to their quick, almost nervous breathing. Spotting their movements from afar, she saw their eyes trained to the ground, not that they would think to look up into the trees where she sat perched, enjoying the view and the sounds of the forest as the nocturnal animals began to scurry along the wooded floor, searching for food and mates.

Her hearing, eyesight, touch, all of her senses were exceptional. That was one of the reasons she was such a good doctor; it was also one of the advantages she had when hunting. Knowing they had found her latest victim, she silently floated down from the top of the tree and strolled out of the forest and to the morgue, ready to finally meet Miss Emma Swan.

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**A/N** _Thank you to all who are following and have faved! Any encouragement is appreciated. I have the utmost admiration for all you writers out there! This is hard!_

_Revenessa, you're beautiful, girl!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

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Killian stepped up behind Emma and looked into the circle of her flashlight beam. There, next to a tree rested the remains of a man, partially decomposed and half-eaten by forest animals. His entrails were laying next his body, and the stench was so overpowering that Emma and Killian instantly covered their noses and mouths with their hands. Stepping back a little to avoid the fetid air, they swept their flashlights in the vicinity looking for any other information. They spotted an overturned bottle a few feet away, but otherwise there were no other clues.

"Damn," she muttered, "I hate that this is the result of our missing persons case. I would have liked to believe that Joe was passed out in an alley, not dead." She barely whispered the word dead, not yet desensitized by it.

"I'm sorry, lass." Killian kept his voice low, out of respect for Emma, and Joe. Killian had seen death many times in his life, and although it wasn't his favorite thing to witness, it didn't affect him as much as it seemed to affect his Swan.

Pulling out her cell phone, Emma called David, still at the station.

"Hey, David, what's the phone number for the coroner's office?"

"Why?" he asked on the other end of the line.

"Because we just found Joe," Emma deadpanned.

"Oh… Is Hook still with you?" Earlier that day, when Emma decided she was going on a scouting mission, David had insisted that he accompany her. He was surprised to learn that she already had a partner lined up for the evening, Hook. David's opinion of Hook had changed drastically after the events of Neverland. He knew the pirate could be quite selfless and reliable, and David had seen the way Hook looked at Emma, not to mention his declaration at the Echo Caves. David trusted that Hook would keep his beloved daughter safe.

"Yeah, he's here." She looked over at Hook, who had now covered his nose with the front of his shirt.

"Good. Let me know what you find out after meeting with the coroner."

"Will do." Emma hung up with David and dialed the number to the morgue.

"Storybrooke Coroner's Office." A woman answered the phone, rolling her R's, her voice like velvet.

"This is Sheriff Emma Swan. I have a body that needs transport to your office. This one's going to require an autopsy."

With a smile in her voice, the woman answered slowly, enunciating every word, "The custodian has gone home for the day, but he's on call. Where are you located, dearest?"

Emma relayed their position and hung up the phone with an odd expression on her face.

Killian's eyes questioned her.

"We have to wait for the van from the coroner's office to pick up the body." She looked tired and shaken by the turn of events.

"What's the matter, lass?" the concern in his question evident. He noticed that her eyes were out of focus, her stance rigid.

"I'm not sure. Something about that voice… the woman… the coroner. Her accent was Eastern European maybe? She just… she just… seemed odd." After a moment, she shook off the ominous feeling, and chalking it up to a long day, she relaxed and looked back over at Killian.

"Well, Swan, since we're in for a bit of a delay, how do you propose we pass the time?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eliciting a small smile and Emma's trademark rolled eyes.

"Hold your horses, cowboy, we're on a case here. Whatever you have in mind has to wait." As soon as the words left her mouth, she flinched, realizing what she had intimated.

He instantly picked up on her comment, smirking back at her, raising an eyebrow and invading her personal space. "Then wait we shall, love, and then I get to show you exactly what I have in mind."

Emma groaned outwardly, shaking her head at her handsome pirate, and poked him in his ribs, pushing him back a bit so she could inhale, finding herself slightly out of breath.

"By the way, what's a cowboy?" he asked, confused as he took her cold hand in his warm one.

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Emma and Killian followed the coroner's van, the body safely tucked inside, to the morgue. She and Killian had had to help the small in stature custodian heave the corpse into the van; he would have never managed by himself. Thankfully he had brought long gloves and aprons.

Arriving at a nice office building that exhibited calm and orderly maintenance; the custodian removed a stretcher from the back of the van and pushed it toward a set of double doors away from the main entrance. "You can follow me if you like," he told them, in an indifferent voice, never introducing himself. Emma thought he was strange, small and reed-like, vitamin D deficient with pointy features and dark eyes. He looked like a man with something to hide, and Emma made a mental note of it.

Walking side by side behind the custodian, they were led into a long hallway, doors and glass windows on either side, office furniture peeking from behind the glass. Halfway down the hallway, he turned left into a corridor with elevators. Getting inside one of them, they traveled down to the basement level. As the doors opened, Emma followed first behind the strange man and was instantly assailed with first the cold, and then the acrid scent of formaldehyde. Mixed with the reek from the corpse, the smell was so overpowering that she took a step back, straight into Killian, feeling the beginning stages of nausea. Killian put his arms around her to steady her, his solid presence comforting her lurching stomach.

And then he experienced what had sent her reeling. "Phwar! What is that stench?" His arms tightened around her.

"You get used to it," the little man said, when he noticed the pairs' faltering steps.

Regaining her footing, stepping out of his embrace, and stealing a glance at Killian that seemed to say 'keep your eyes open,' Emma, breathing as much as possible out of her mouth, followed the man into another room that looked like a laboratory.

There the custodian's path ended and he looked around for his beautiful, though untouchable boss. He spotted her in a corner of the room, bent over a work station, writing something. He could see her wavy, long red mane dangling down her back as though she had placed each curl exactly as she desired. Everything she did, every movement she made seemed calculated and faultless. They had worked together for years; he adored her, worshipped her, and secretly longed to be the center of her attention, even if it required his lying on one of the cold steel tables and allowing her sharp blade to slice through any part of his body she chose.

Parking the stretcher in the middle of the room, next to the steel autopsy table, the custodian walked over to a counter along the wall, pulled a snack bar from his pocket, bowed his head down low and began to chew.

"I'll be with you in a moment; I have to finish this last line." Hearing their arrival long before they entered the elevator, she purposely stood with her back to the door of her main dissecting chamber.

Staring, Emma and Killian noticed her white lab coat over a black skirt or dress of some kind. When the pathologist turned, both of them took a step back with the sheer force of the woman's gaze, her eyes the color of illuminated whisky. She was the most elegant and dazzling woman either of them had ever seen.

Emma looked over at Killian to see him ogling the doctor with his mouth hanging open slightly.

She narrowed her eyes, and he turned his head toward her with a sheepish grin. Truth be known, Killian took it all in stride. He appreciated a pretty face when he saw one, but he'd lived long enough to know the value of a woman with the whole package. No one could compare to his Swan.

"Katrina Istrati, you must be Emma Swan," she purred, offering her hand to Emma.

Emma hesitated a second taking her hand; the skin was soft and cold, chilled by the basement air. She looked unbelievably young—how could she have possibly trained for her profession? She didn't look a day over twenty-four, although her eyes looked like they had seen eons. The ancient eyes set into her faultless complexion reminded her of Killian.

"I am. And this is Killian Jones. He helped me locate Joe, the body we've brought for your inspection." Killian looked back over to Emma, his eyebrows rising, noting it as the first time she had ever called him by his given name. His face held such joy, the sound of his name on her lips a balm to his healing heart. He wished for nothing else than listening to her say it over and over again.

Scrutinizing the couple's interaction, Katrina asked, "Ah yes, Joe. Do you have a surname for him?"

"Not that anyone knows of."

"You said he was found in the woods? What else can you tell me about him?" Katrina articulated each syllable; her words seemed to echo in the large room.

Emma began filling her in on the details of the disappearance, and Killian looked around, taking in the impeccably clean surroundings, his eyes alighting on the custodian, who was licking his lips having just finished his meal. Disgusted, he turned back to Emma just as she said, "We would appreciate a cause of death on this one. I suspect that he had been failing for awhile and possibly died of a heart attack. I think he went off by himself, knowing his end was near. The autopsy is to make sure I'm not looking for a murderer."

Katrina smiled. "Point taken. I'll get started tonight and fax you the report as soon as I'm done. You should have it first thing tomorrow morning."

"Good. I appreciate your help on this… Katrina, right? I'm sorry we haven't met before, but at the same time, I guess that's a good thing." Emma said, offering her hand in acknowledgment.

Katrina turned to the side just as Emma's hand went out. She lifted the sheet halfway down the corpse's body, suppressing her inner glee. Pretending to be preoccupied with the expressionless face in front of her, she waited for Emma's hand to drop. She turned back to Emma and Killian in time to say, "Goodbye, you'll know by tomorrow morning if this case is worthy of worry."

"Uh, thanks, we'll see ourselves out," Emma said, perplexed by the woman's behavior.

As they rode in the elevator back to the ground floor, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the woman. She wasn't lying, but she was hiding something. Lost in thought, she didn't feel Killian's arms circle her from behind.

"So now the waiting is done, love. Ready to see what I have in mind?" he whispered in her ear.

Batting his hands away a moment too late, Emma looked over her shoulder at him incredulously, "How can you make innuendos in a morgue? We're surrounded by stink and dead people!"

"It's all part of the circle of life, love. I just prefer to focus on the life part of it, especially the _consummation_ of said life."

"Ok, that's just weird. No way I'm making out in an elevator at the morgue," she stated, completely grossed out.

"Is that an invitation, love? We could always find a more suitable arrangement for your comfort."

As if on cue, the doors opened and Emma practically jumped out, relieved to be leaving the creepy place. They retraced their steps back to the car, and Killian, arriving at the driver's side first, opened the door for her after she unlocked it.

Raising her eyebrow, exasperated, she cried, "Killian, this is not a date!"

"Every moment with a beautiful woman is a date," he rejoined. His tone was serious, but the mischief in his eyes alluded to his previous thoughts.

"Is that right?" She placed her hands on her hips, amused by his words.

"That's correct. Just ask any sailor who's been on a ship for months on end with no beautiful women in sight. Hell, with no women in sight. After that length of time, one tends to appreciate every single second in the company of an alluring lass."

"Killian Jones, you have no shame." She noticed his ears perk up and his head tilt at the mention of his name.

"Of course not, darling. The most shameful activities are typically the most fun."

At that she punched him in the chest, pushing him back away from her. She felt odd about kissing him in front of a morgue, and recognized that she shouldn't be thinking such thoughts while on the job. He grinned and walked to the other side of the car.

Getting in, she started the car and headed towards the harbor.

Losing the spark of banter, Emma asked, "So what's your next project on your ship?" She was making small talk, and hated it in a way because she loved their playful repartee, although she'd never admit that to him.

"I'll spend the next week removing damaged boards and rails and replacing them. Then it's sanding and oiling. All the wood on the boat needs refinishing. I'll address the exterior wood first and then move to the worn spots below deck."

"Goodness. That sounds like a lot to do. How are you going to manage it by yourself?"

"Are you offering your services, lass, because I would take all the help I could get," he chuckled and shook his head.

"Me? I'm not much of woodworker. I did have a foster father who liked to tinker in the workshop, but I never saw him build anything recognizable. I think he mostly kept to the shop to avoid his wife and all of us kids."

"You don't have to be a woodworker to wield sandpaper and a little oil. Seriously, though, I could use some help. It's a big job." He would give anything to have her near him, regardless of the task that brought them together. In Neverland she had been a near constant companion, and since their return, his days had been hell without her.

Feeling as though it was the least she could do, Emma nodded, "Ok, I can meet you Saturday. Henry will be with Neal, so I'll be free."

"Really?" Killian asked, with surprised delight in his voice. "I never expected you to accept, especially with your being a princess. I would never ask such back-breaking work of you."

Rolling her eyes without ungluing them from the road, she answered him with a hint of annoyance in her tone. "I'm not a princess. Besides, I don't have anything else going on, and it's the least I can do after all your help with Henry and Pan and…" She had stopped the car in front of the pier leading to his ship.

His eyes were shining with emotion, and as Emma's sentence trailed off, he gently cupped her face.

"I look forward to it then." He leaned in as though he was going to kiss her, watching her eyes dilate with arousal as they dropped to his mouth. Suddenly, he backed away with a grin, teasing her.

"Oh no, you don't," Emma grabbed the lapel of his leather vest, dragging him back to her and pressed her mouth to his. His kiss was tantalizingly slow and tender, and he drew his tongue across her lips, using every ounce of self-control to keep from deepening the kiss. Keeping his hand and hook in his lap helped.

He pulled back. "I'll see you on Saturday. Make it early. And I call the shots." He winked and then stepped out of the car, whistling and strolling toward the pier. Knowing she was still watching him, he turned around and took a deep bow—arms outstretched. Then he tipped his imaginary hat to her and walked toward the Jolly Roger.

Emma shook her head at the receding pirate, and laughed. She hadn't smiled so much in ages, maybe ever, and it was a nice change.

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	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N Here's a nice long chapter with lots of CS! Thanks to all who follow or fav! You guys are great!_**

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Chapter 6

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She was alone again, thank the dark heavens. Katrina delighted in her work, and quietly humming to herself, she stripped the entire sheet from the body and began the autopsy. This was her favorite part. Each skin layer, each sinew, organ, vein or artery, every part had a name, and she would recite each one with a loving caress as she cut through it. This autopsy was a formality, and breaking through the sternum, she knew what she would report—congestive heart failure and severe cirrhosis of the liver. It would be a plausible cause of death for the elderly drunk.

As soon as her knife began its descent into his chest cavity, she was assailed with images of his killing. She remembered the stench of old alcohol—his entire body reeked of it, and when she had bitten him, above his right shoulder blade, careful to keep the marks well hidden, she could taste the last foods he had eaten and the last images he had seen.

His was a particularly easy kill; she'd been watching him for a couple of weeks. Arriving in the very early morning hours, just before the bar had closed; she had softly sung his name and beckoned him to follow her. The man was so intoxicated that he thought she was some sort of apparition or dream shade. Once they had reached the outskirts of town, she motioned him closer, moving so slowly, too slowly for a human; he nearly fell into her when they were a couple of feet apart. Embracing him in the night, she held him as he took in her clean scent and ran his hands up the length of her body, clad in a tight-fitting, ankle length, blood-red dress. She wore her hair loose, like a halo surrounding her head, and the air around them held an electrical charge.

As quick as lightening, she moved around to his back, pulling his shirt away from his shoulder and bit him. He moaned in response, head lolling back as his knees buckled. Using her superior strength, she supported his body weight with her right arm until she had finished her meal, sated in a way that only blood could sate her. "Yes!" she cried, an echo in the forest that caused all the sounds to cease for a moment. She was surrounded by dead calm, a perfect stifling hush.

She had propped his body up against a tree, knowing he would be found sooner or later, and ensuring a meeting with the new sheriff.

As she continued her ministrations on the dead drunk, she thought about the meeting that had gone so well. Emma… Emma… She rolled her name over and over on her tongue, liking the rhythm of it. And Jones… He had changed, she could see that much. Even if she hadn't recognized him from her past, she still would have known he was old; she could hear it in his inflection and perceive the ages that floated across his irises. Emma and Jones… the whiff of the pheromones they emitted nearly overpowered her when she was in their presence. She much preferred the voyeuristic lifestyle that kept such odors at bay. She had observed the couple three separate times, and now she had physical confirmation; Jones was besotted with the sheriff, and he would get what he deserved—to lose everything he loved just as she had.

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The morning sunlight streamed through Emma's bedroom window. Stretching lazily, she watched the dust particles float in the beam of fresh light. Today she was going to the Jolly Roger to help Killian with his repairs. A little nervous with anticipation, she shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom shower. The warm spray did nothing to calm her anxiety, and the closer she came to being ready to leave, the more the butterflies in her stomach seemed to multiply.

The last couple of days had been uneventful. The missing person's case was closed, thank heaven. Curious by nature, Emma always had trouble sleeping or even relaxing when working on an open case, mulling scenarios over in her head until one of them clicked. Her nonstop mind often exhausted her, but she would find no rest until the case was solved, rendering her adept at her job as a bounty hunter, and accomplished at her job now.

She packed a couple of sandwiches and a big bag of Doritoes for their lunch. Grabbing her jacket from the peg by the door, she left quietly so as not to disturb her still sleeping parents, sure they would enjoy having the apartment to themselves today.

The day was clear and bright, with a slight breeze in the air that chilled Emma's skin. Donning her jacket, she decided to walk to the harbor, using the time to collect her thoughts before she faced Killian. Their scouting mission had been fun, just as he had promised in Neverland, and it amazed her how much she enjoyed his friendship and his teasing. His smile and his laugh were infecting her with actual joy, and she liked it. It had been so long since she actually liked a man, which for Emma always seemed more important than love. She had seen plenty of people who loved each other, but couldn't stand to be together, and she had no desire to live her life that way.

She had intended to let things progress slowly, but it seemed that the more time they spent together, the more she desired his companionship. Surprised that she had actually missed seeing him these past couple of days, she had to admit she was looking forward to spending the day with him. They shared something special; she'd been in enough bad relationships to be able to spot one with potential.

As the Jolly Roger came into view, Emma noticed Killian standing on a barrel, stretching up to reach a spot on the mast, sandpaper in hand. Wearing the soft charcoal leather pants again and a loose white shirt, his abdomen was clearly visible, the shirt having pulled away from his pants with the extreme stretch. She remembered the feel of his rock hard body beneath hers, and the current view confirmed it. Climbing over the rail, Emma announced her presence with "Hey, Hook."

He shifted his weight downward to look at her and at the same moment caused the barrel to wobble, tossing him unceremoniously onto the deck. Landing on his backside, cursing, and leaning up on his elbows, he noticed her laughing at him. He perused her attire, lingering on the large holes at the knees of her jeans, which showed glimpses of her long legs.

"I see you've got your sea legs back," she teased.

"I see you've no concept of early," he retorted.

Taking the bait, she replied, "Hey, it's Saturday, one of two days a week I look forward to sleeping in."

She bent down, offering her hand. He took it, and as she hoisted his body toward hers, he purposefully fell into her, wrapped his arms around her waist, laughing, and brushed his scruff across her cheek, whispering, "Thanks, love."

Her hands on his shoulders, she shivered in his embrace, then stepped back, intentionally putting space between them and saluted as she asked, "So what's on the agenda, Captain?"

Disappointed at not getting to hold her longer, he answered, "I replaced the planks near the helm just yesterday. They need sanding. It's a large area and I thought we might start there." His intention was to stay near her all day, so he had picked jobs that would require them both.

"Alright, what do I need?" Accepting a pair of gloves and an electric palm sander, her eyebrows went up. "Oh, high tech, I see."

"I have to admit there are certain _luxuries_ this world offers," he grinned suggestively.

How he could possibly make a wood working project into an innuendo she would never know. He was just talented.

He had rigged up two sanders so they could work together. Stepping up onto the quarterdeck, he sat down on the new boards, showing her how to sand in the direction of the grain, blending the new wood with the old as she went, smoothing the wood to a soft finish. She picked up the technique fast, and soon the only sound was the vibrating buzzes of the sanders.

Killian was so engrossed in the section he was working that he didn't notice when Emma began to struggle with her area. Hearing an audible "Humph," he looked up to see his Swan on all fours. Her shapely derriere was facing him, and he nearly fell over at the sight of her jeans hugging her hips. What he wouldn't give to run his hands along her backside, cupping it, glorying in the softness of it. The thought reminded him of his waking dream the other day, when she had been standing in front of him, pressing her body into his… His sander went slack.

Emma turned around, noticing that the buzzing sound had changed. She caught Killian staring at her, mouth sagging, lost in another world. "What's wrong?" she shouted over the sound of the sanders.

Recovering, he yelled back, "I was going to ask you the same thing."

She knew he had been staring at her ass and seemed quite unrepentant about it. She rolled her eyes and signaled at the offending wood. "There's this spot right here that I just can't get smooth. I've been over it several times and it just won't work!" She was obviously frustrated.

"Here, let me see, lass." Killian turned off his sander and crawled over to her. He saw what she meant; the grain of the wood was perpendicular to its surface. No amount of sanding would smooth it. Chuckling, he reassured her, "Do you see the wood grain? You can't sand a spot like that smooth. You just have to tar the hell out of it."

"Oh. I wish I would have known that about ten minutes ago," she sighed.

"No worries, lass. I think we're almost done anyway. What do you say we finish this section and then break for lunch?"

A little later, sitting back on her heels, Emma turned off her sander, took off her gloves and began to rub the back of her neck.

Killian finished his section, removed his glove, and sliding over to her stated, "Let me," and began to rub the tension out of her neck.

"You were right when you said this was back-breaking work," she moaned, as he hit a particularly tender spot. His fingers were magical, massaging the kinks in her upper shoulders, neck and biceps. They were still on the floor of the deck, she sitting Indian style while he was on his knees behind her. He used his left forearm as counterbalance, sometimes placing it on her forehead if he was working her neck, sometimes on her chest, always careful to keep his hook well away from her. Damn, he was good, even with one hand.

He relished the feel of her skin beneath his. She had removed her jacket awhile ago, when the combination of the heat and the work caused beads of sweat to form on her forehead. Her skin glistened in the sun, her hair shined, and it still smelled like vanilla beans, causing him to want to bury himself in it. She visibly relaxed, and leaned back into him, caressing his hand that had moved down her arm and entwining her fingers with his. He closed his eyes as heat flooded his body at her contact. His handless arm snaked around her middle, pressing her body tightly against his and lingered on her belly.

A loud grumbling sound broke his silent daydream.

Embarrassed, she mumbled, "I guess I'm a little hungry."

"I love a lass with an appetite," he rejoined, instantly putting her at ease. He stood up, offering his hand this time, and they walked back down to the main deck for lunch.

As they sat sipping water and munching the last of the Doritoes, which Killian thought would be an excellent addition to the growing list of possible provisions for seafaring journeys, Emma asked hesitantly, "So what are you planning to do when you finish repairing your ship?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, afraid he might say he planned to leave and explore this land, or return to the Enchanted Forest.

Taking his time answering, and making Emma more nervous the longer he delayed, he finally replied, "I honestly don't know. My revenge is essentially obsolete, I don't have a crew if I wanted to sail the high seas again, I couldn't be a pirate in this world because I'm not familiar enough with it, and going back to the Enchanted Forest would require more effort than I have energy. I've thought about it often. I play the part of Captain Hook, pirate extraordinaire, but I'm not sure I'm designed for that kind of life anymore. And after this last trip to Neverland… all that adventure comes with a price… Or maybe I'm just getting old." He smiled at her then, belying the seriousness of his tone.

His frankness stunned Emma. Of all the responses she imagined, that wasn't it. Grasping at his last comment, Emma teased, "You're just now realizing you're old?" She could relate to how he felt, having spent years of her life not belonging to any place, or anybody. He vaguely smiled at her comment, lost in thought. Touching his knee, she murmured "I understand how you feel, Killian."

The mention of his name brought him out of his reverie. He really did love hearing her call him Killian. "Ah, love, it's for me to discern. In the meantime, I pray you might make my current identity crisis a little more bearable." Facing her, he cupped her face and gazed into her brilliant green eyes.

She placed her hand on top of his and leaned into his touch. Her eyes followed the line of his nose, resting on his mouth. Shifting slightly, she kissed him gently, hoping to ease his serious expression.

He smiled into her mouth and smirked, "Now that's what I'm talking about."

Giggling, she pulled back asking, "Where did you hear that phrase?"

"Just something I picked up on the TV at the Rabbit Hole," then, "I used it correctly, didn't I?"

She laughed again, put her hands around his neck and said, "Yeah, you used it correctly." She kissed him again, feeling whimsical and free for the first time in a long time.

Beginning to feel the tension start to build, Emma broke their kiss before it turned passionate. She wasn't quite ready for more than what they had already shared. Placing her forehead against his, she inhaled deeply and then reluctantly sighed, "I guess we should get back to work."

Respecting her need for space, he leaned back. As long as his Swan was near, he was okay with letting her go. They both stood up together.

Looking around the deck he answered, "Right. The railing around the ship has to be oiled next."

"All of it?" she asked, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the job.

"Yes, but don't trouble yourself, lass. We'll work until you desire to stop." He smiled fondly at her, brushing a lock of hair away from her face and over her shoulder.

He walked over to a large barrel near the railing and pulled out a gallon of linseed oil, a bucket, sponges and a couple of brushes. Filling the bucket with oil, he dipped a sponge in and began to seal the wooden rails with a thin coat. "This goes fast, but will take several coats, so as it soaks in, just keep reapplying until the wood stops absorbing it."

He handed her the gloves she had been wearing and a sponge, and they set to work again, this time opting to work together, their arms brushing up against each other repeatedly.

Killian broke the silence with meaningless questions, trying to draw out his lass. She began talking timidly at first, and as he proved to be a good listener, she lost herself in recounting all that had happened that week in her life: Henry's sword project and the blacksmith, her thoughts on David and Mary Margaret getting their own place, all the little nothings she experienced every day.

He loved hearing her voice. The more comfortable she became, the more she spoke with confidence and shared her feelings. He peppered their conversation with his impressions of modern day living, funny stories from his pirating days, and some of the things he missed from the Enchanted Forest.

Lost in easily flowing conversation, Emma didn't realize how close her foot had come to the bucket of oil. Stepping back, she kicked it over. As it covered the deck, she slipped, landing flat on her backside, mimicking his earlier fall.

"I guess now we should call you Princess Grace," he teased, laughing at her clumsiness.

At that she grabbed his ankle and pulled him down with her.

Grabbing the bucket, he crawled over to her, and dumped what remained on her head.

Emma used both hands to wipe at the oil on her face. Staring at the pirate with her most menacing glare, despite the corners of her mouth curving up a bit, she pointed a finger at him, "Oh, you're gonna get it!" Sitting back on her knees, she ran her hands in the muck, and then rubbed it all over his face and hair, trying to make him as messy as she was.

His leather clad knees slipped on the deck surface when he tried to back up, causing him to face plant.

Emma really lost it then. Putting both her hands up, fists closed like a champ, she shouted, "Yes! Round 2 to the Princess!"

"Then Round 3 goes to the pirate." He grabbed her, pushing her back onto the deck, covering her with his body, and staring at her with ravenous need.

When Emma looked into his gleaming blue eyes, all playfulness was forgotten, and just as she glanced at his mouth, she instantly warmed all over.

He closed the gap between them. His hand was everywhere at once, sliding up and down her arm, tracing her side from her hip to her shoulder, tangling in her hair. His hook rested behind her head, his forearm cradling her from the hard deck beneath. He kissed her with abandon and passion and pent-up desire.

His mouth traced her own, biting her lower lip, and when she opened her mouth against his, he slowed the kiss to lightly traced her tongue with his, relishing in her taste and breathing in everything Swan. His slippery body pressed into her own, and he could feel every outline of her tempting curves. His hand moved to cup the underside of her breast and she gasped as he began to trail his mouth down the side of her neck, settling near her collar bone. He could feel her hands on his back, exploring the feel of him. She hooked a knee around the back of his leg and he moaned in pleasure, pushing himself closer to her, if that was possible.

"Killian," Emma gasped, "it's too much. This is too much." The power coming out of her felt overwhelming.

Reluctant to remove his attention from her neck and shoulder, Killian pushed up onto his right hand, looking down at her, and noticing the faint golden glow that was beginning to fade around the edges. All of a sudden he realized that Emma wasn't afraid of him so much, but afraid of her own magic. The thought encouraged him, revitalizing the dismay he had felt at her declaration.

Moving off to the side, he grinned down at her, wiggling his brows up and down. "Nothing like a little extra lubrication."

She punched him and stood, helping him up at the same time. His wet shirt clung to the planes of his chest, hinting at the pattern of hair underneath. Emma averted her eyes, still recovering from the moment before.

"I didn't bring a change of clothes, you know," she complained with a frown.

He smiled at that, and said, "I have a long shirt I can loan you, and the showers are only a stone's throw away."

"Maybe I should just walk home and clean up there." She looked undecided.

Trying anything to keep her there with him, reaching for her hand he whispered, "You don't have to leave, Emma."

His eyes were downcast, and he looked like a reprimanded boy. In that moment Emma decided that she didn't want their day to end. This had been the most fun she'd had in so long, and the idea of going back to her apartment, watching Mary Margaret and David snuggle all day, had her nodding at Killian, "Alright then, I accept your offer of a towel, shirt and shower."

Glancing back at her, beaming from ear to ear, he stated matter of factly, "Excellent, love. I'll just be a minute."

He went to his cabin in disbelief. His Swan was staying! He could have shouted to the world that he was in love with her, had been for a long time. He had hoped beyond hope that she would eventually warm to him, and as confident as he always appeared to be, he always felt a little uncertain that she might choose Neal instead or leave them all and settle someplace else far away. Quickly grabbing his shower bag, a change of clothes for him, the shirt for Emma, and a couple of towels, he walked back toward her, bouncing slightly, his eyes shining with glee.

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As dusk approached, Katrina Istrati tasted the air with her tongue, sensing the drop in temperature and the slight humidity that signaled rain. She slept in a crypt underground, placed on the outskirts of the forest, well protected from any wandering campers or hikers. There was no above-ground marker, and the forest floor hid the entrance well. The coldness of the concrete walls comforted her with their dampening presence. There were no echoes. Katrina hated echoes grating her sensitive ears.

Perceiving that the sun had finished its descent into the blackness, she arose and dressed in her long, blood red dress, placing a cape around her shoulders against the chill air. She was going hunting.

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_**Review?**_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Hello everyone! Reviews are awesome, so thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave one.**

**At Nouqueret: Thanks for the idea of involving Ruby, and for the complement about Twilight! I've never read it or seen it, but I know it's very well-received. Ruby will have a part in this fic, but a small one as I think the vampire/werewolf thing is a bit overdone.**

**Love to you all who follow and fav!**

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Chapter 7

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Freshly showered and relaxed, Emma and Killian sat on the main deck of the Jolly Roger, leaning against the base of the foredeck, legs outstretched, watching the stars peek out one by one. He was wearing a clean pair of worn leather pants and white shirt, perfect for lounging. Emma had on a longer white shirt, meant for sleeping, her legs uncovered. When Killian had seen the goosebumps on her skin from the chill night air, he had loaned her his black jacket. She then understood why he wore it so often; the comforting weight and soft leather molded to her body completely. Their quiet conversation tinkled in the soft breeze, occasionally punctuated by soft laughter.

He was holding her hand, their fingers interlaced, and he felt like he was in a dream, listening to his sweet lass, everything good and perfect in the world around them. Killian couldn't remember the last time he had been so content.

For all the fireworks earlier that afternoon, Emma couldn't remember the last time she had felt so safe. She never shared this much personal information with anyone, not even her mother, whose heart was softer than anyone she'd ever met. He listened, interjected appropriately, asked questions, and was really all the gentleman he claimed to be. He told her stories about his past too. She learned more about Milah, how they'd met and the circumstances surrounding her flight from the Crocodile. He discussed his childhood, growing up in his brother's intimidating shadow and how much he strove for Liam's approval. Emma leaned her head on his shoulder as the night wore on, neither of them wanting it to end.

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Katrina had been monitoring the fisherman for two weeks. That was her rule, to watch someone for enough time to know their routines, and learn about any family connections or close friends. She always picked someone isolated, with the exception of the drunk, who she chose precisely because he was well-known.

Lonnie Anderson lived in a shanty about thirty minutes from the city center. He owned his own boat, taking it out every day except Sunday when he stayed inside and watched television all day, getting up only to replenish his beer. He was home every night without a visitor or a phone call. There were no pictures on the walls of his home, no keepsakes, no mementoes. He lived the life of a hermit, and made the perfect victim. With so many fishermen in the harbor town, she seriously doubted he would be missed, and Katrina knew he would never be found. Working at the morgue had its advantages.

She arrived at his house early, observed his evening meal. Every night was the same: he ate two boxed microwaveable dinners and drank three beers, watching television until he fell asleep in his dingy chair. He would wake up in the early morning and then finish out the night in his bed. That's when Katrina would strike, doing the pour soul a favor by liberating him from his miserable existence.

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Emma and Killian's conversation waned the sleepier they became. Even though the day had been more fun than either had experienced in a long time, it had still been a long day, and they were physically tired.

Killian shifted after a particularly long break in the conversation, looked at Emma and noticed her eyes growing heavy. He groaned as he stood up, stretching his back, and then bent down to give her a hand. He felt as old as he was, his knees cracking and his joints popping with the motion. She took his offered hand and stood up sleepily. He began to lead her below deck.

Hesitating when she realized the direction they were moving, she quietly stated, "I don't think this is a good idea."

He placed his hand on her cheek, stroking her face with his thumb, "We're both fatigued, love, and I don't want to spend the night on the deck again."

She couldn't argue with that one, as sore as she'd been the other day. Head down, she vacillated between staying and going, her heart torn by the consequences of either action. She glanced up at him then, his intense blue eyes looking so hopeful, and she knew… knew without a doubt that she could trust him with her heart… knew that he was in love with her, would fight for her and never hurt her as long it was in his power. Throwing caution to the wind, she allowed him to tug her to his cabin.

Killian couldn't believe his luck. He was dancing a jig on the inside, although he kept his expression and body language calm and serene. As she followed him into the room, he felt his heartbeat quicken with the anticipation of spending the night curled up around his Swan. Looking over his shoulder at her, he picked up the hem of his shirt silently asking if she minded if he took it off. She shook her head and he quickly removed it, throwing it to the floor. Figuring he wouldn't risk asking if his pants could go too, he kept them on knowing they would be uncomfortable under the blanket, but worth the aggravation to keep her there. Shrugging out of his jacket, she climbed into bed, and he longed to trail his fingers up her long legs, under the hem of the shirt… He had to focus on something else or he wouldn't have the self-control that this night was going to require of him.

Emma settled under the blanket, her tired body melting into the soft mattress. Killian trailed behind, the mattress dipping a little under his weight. Firmly establishing himself next to her, their arms touching side by side, she heard him whisper, "You're on my side, lass."

She grinned, grateful for the break in tension that had been growing since her decision to stay. Slightly nervous about being so close to his warm, naked torso, she picked up the thread of the earlier conversation and said, "Tell me more about Liam."

He recounted a story about how they'd once fallen in love with the same lass, causing a rift because she chose Liam, and how Liam had valued his brother's feelings over the girl's. He spoke about how honorable Liam was, how trusting and loyal.

Killian Jones' soothing voice lulled Emma to sleep better than any mother quietly singing to her child. The still air was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a very unladylike snort, and Killian stopped his narration to look over at her. She was passed out, her face completely relaxed and worry-free. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek and followed her into the land of dreams.

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Katrina sat on an old tree stump outside the fisherman's house clad in her dark red dress that fell to the ankles, her black cape tossed aside. In the forest she could dress as she pleased, there was no one to see her. She listened to his rhythmic snoring, marring the magnificent sounds of the forest at night. For as much as she loved the taste of human blood, she hated humans themselves, thinking they were nasty creatures, dirty and loud, messy and absurd. She found nothing to redeem them in her sight, even if she had once been one so many years ago. She liked her _enhanced_ self, and without a thought regarding her own culpability in murder, she thought she was doing the race a favor by slowly diminishing it.

At the sputter and cough of the reeking man, Katrina knew this was her moment. Although she had taken thousands of victims, she thrilled in anticipation of the satisfaction she knew was inevitable. Every time was like the first.

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The sunlight shone through the open window of Killian's quarters, gently nudging Emma awake. The comforting presence of Killian's warm body pressed against her back, and arms encircling her waist, encouraged her to snuggle deeper into the thick blanket.

Feeling her stir, Killian opened his eyes. He had been awake since daybreak and had been listening to his lass's quiet snoring for a few hours now. He had kept his word, ever the gentleman, only snuggling with her, frightened she'd bolt if he withdrew the feelings that seemed to spark her magical glow. It took more self-control than he knew he possessed.

"Good morning, love. Sleep well?" He knew the answer, she hadn't stirred all night.

Stretching a little and cupping her body tighter into his, she moaned, "Mmm hmm."

His arms tightened around her middle and she turned to face him, tracing the outline of his face with her thumb, splaying her fingers in his chest hair. He threw a leg over her and they stayed in each other's arms for what felt like the longest and shortest five minutes of his life.

Suddenly she sat bolt upright. "What time is it?"

Still lying down, immediately grieving the loss of her soft warm body, he answered, "I… I don't know, lass. Somewhere around ten, I imagine?"

Swinging her legs over the bed and standing up, she shouted, "Crap. Crap. Crap! I was supposed to meet Neal to pick up Henry half an hour ago. And as it is I have to go home and change first. How am I going to explain the way I'm dressed to my family, and half the town?" she cried, "I walked over here and now I have to walk back!"

Chuckling at her distress and hiding his own sorrow at her admission that she still felt she needed to hide their relationship, he stood up and stated, "Your clothes are probably clean by now, lass. I threw them in the laundry while I was waiting for you to finish your shower."

"The harbor has a laundry?"

"Not for everyone's use, mind. But I befriended the harbor master and he said I could use his washer whenever I wanted. It's a small room off the back of the showers and I have a key."

Donning a shirt, he said, "Wait here, and I'll be back as quick as a wink."

Amazed at his thoughtfulness, Emma watched him disappear from the room. She looked around at his cabin, taking in the ordered chaos around her. He had books and charts covering his desk along with an unopened package of pens. He had small mementoes of his travels placed in niches all around the room, giving it a homey feel.

He returned and handed over her jeans and tank top, freshly laundered and folded. "How did you…? I mean, you never left my side…? How did you get them out of the washer and into the dryer?"

"Can't tell you all my secrets, lass." He kissed her cheek and closed the door behind him, allowing her privacy. His demeanor caused her to relax and she smiled in spite of her anxiety at being late.

Walking back on deck, she found him looking out over the water. Before she said a word, he turned and pulled her into his embrace, holding her close as though afraid he might not have another chance to do so.

"When will I see you again, love?" he asked gently, pulling back enough to look into her striking sea green eyes.

"I… I'm not sure. I have Henry this week and I don't know what my schedule looks like at work."

He searched her face and saw that she wasn't avoiding him at present; she was actually trying to figure out when she might have time to see him. "Then I'll find you, lass." With that, he kissed her gently and whacked her rear as she walked away, causing her to turn and narrow her eyes at him. "What?" he asked slyly, trying to look innocent.

Laughing to herself, she shook her head and trotted back to town.

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Arriving at Gold's shop about twenty minutes later, Emma knocked on the door, slightly winded.

"Mom!" Henry exclaimed when he opened the door. He hugged her tight and motioned her in.

"Hey, kid, how was your weekend?" She still had her arm around him as they walked into the antique shop, smelling of ancient items and dust.

"Good! Neal took me to the movies in the next town over. We saw Twilight." He buzzed with excitement, sharing so many details of the movie that Emma wouldn't have to watch it herself. She smiled at his news, happy that he was happy.

"Hi Em," Neal greeted as he walked into the main part of the shop.

"I heard you guys had a fun day yesterday." Neal was staring at her, making Emma feel slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. She prayed he wasn't going to ask her out again.

Turning to Henry, he said, "Hey, can you give your mom and me a second alone?"

With a knowing smile and a nod at his father, Henry skipped to the back of the store, presumably to get his things together.

Oh no, here it comes, Emma thought. She had felt so lighthearted the whole jog over here, now he was going to ruin it. Despite her misgivings, she looked at him expectantly.

Wringing his hands, he asked, "Have you given my question anymore thought?"

Playing dumb, she answered, "What question?"

"You know, a date," rushing on, "It doesn't have to be anything fancy, maybe coffee or lunch…" He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair, obviously nervous.

"Oh Neal," she groaned, "Can't this wait? Can't we just be friends for awhile? We just got back to Storybrooke and I want things to be settled for a bit before… before…" What was she trying to say, and who was she trying to fool? A date with Neal would never compare to the date she had just come from. Neal would never compare to Killian. He was a great guy, kind and easy going. But he wasn't going to fight for what he loved, and Emma knew she'd settle for nothing less anymore. She had a taste of something miraculous, and she wasn't willing to sacrifice it by going back to a relationship that had never been that great to begin with.

Looking appropriately chagrined, Neal answered, "Ok. I get it. I'll wait for you, Emma. You're worth waiting for." His eyes were probing hers for any kind of confirmation that he wouldn't be waiting in vain.

"Don't," she whispered under her breath, "I don't I have the energy to make a relationship work between us. I love you, Neal, and I always will, but I can't live with you anymore." And that was the honest truth. She had always been the type to pull the Bandaid off quickly. The pain was more intense, but brief, rather than a persisting, throbbing ache. She might hurt Neal now, but he'd thank her later for not leading him on.

As if on cue, Henry reappeared, brightly smiling with his bag and backpack, ready to go. "Ready, Mom?"

Emma looked over at a dejected Neal, trying to smile despite a breaking heart. She tenderly touched his shoulder as she left with Henry leading the way.

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Henry talked animatedly the entire walk back to the apartment. As soon as they hiked in the door, Mary Margaret greeted Henry and then drew Emma into a tight embrace.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in two days!" she cried, "where were you this morning?"

Her mother could be a bit dramatic, so Emma answered carefully, "I woke up early and went over to Granny's for breakfast. Then I went to Neal's to pick up Henry, although I was late getting there." Emma walked over to the kitchen to see if there was any coffee left, thankful that Mary Margaret couldn't detect lies like she could.

"Oh. Well, that's ok then," she brightened, sitting back down at the table where she had been reading a magazine.

Just then David walked into the living room. Henry ran over and hugged him, always happy to see his grandfather.

"Hey, champ. How was your weekend?"

As Henry filled them in, Emma went upstairs to her room and sat on her bed, coffee in hand. She needed a moment alone to process the last twenty-four hours. Her time with Killian filled her with hope, hope that she could love and be loved. She didn't think she had fallen yet, but knew she was well on her way, knew he made her feel sensations she'd never felt before, knew he made her feel cherished and adored. No man had ever respected her the way he did, teased her and coddled her. He was unexpectedly thoughtful and just plain… just plain wonderful. She sighed, laid back on her bed, forgetting about the coffee in her hand, and dumped it all over her.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Sorry for the delay!**

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Chapter 8

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Waking up to a clear and cool night, Katrina dressed in her black catsuit, pairing it with a black leather jacket and boots. If she were spotted, she'd blend into the shadows, passing for a woman looking for a good time. She rarely went into town except for work, but tonight was different. Tonight she planned to visit Emma Swan.

She drove her old gray pick-up truck into town, the loud roar of the engine drowning out everything else. Parking at the morgue to dispel any suspicion, she stepped out of her truck and trained her ears on the night sounds: drunken people arguing afar off, the wind blowing through the crepe myrtle trees at the front of the property, the scurrying of tiny underground beetles. She was alone. She gently closed the door to her truck and walked over to Emma's apartment.

Katrina knew much about the young sheriff, such as where she lived, who her parents were, her son Henry, Neal and their complicated relationship, and now her connection to Jones. She'd been searching for an Achilles heel on Jones ever since she realized he was in Storybrooke. Unfazed, she waited. She was very good at waiting, and Jones had finally revealed his weakness the night she had observed him with Emma Swan.

Arriving at Emma's apartment, and spying no one around, she floated up to the second floor. As luck would have it, Emma's window was open, the slight breeze causing the curtains to billow. Moving forward, she stepped into the room lightly, leaning back on the window ledge, feet on the floor. She directed her eyes to her prey. Emma was dreaming; the lines in her face smooth and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. She mumbled something that Katrina couldn't make out.

As Emma continued dreaming, Katrina looked about the room, noticing the tidiness. She respected neatness and organization; everything had a place and should be kept in it. The bed was in the center of the back wall, a chest of drawers across from it. A small table with a lamp touched one edge of the bed, and a chair rested in the opposite corner. A pair of jeans and a shirt were strewn across the chair, shoes tossed carelessly next to it. The only memento was a picture of her and Henry sitting on the chest. The room smelled of vanilla, the sweet perfumed kind, not the extract.

Suddenly Emma started tossing back and forth as if in the middle of a boat on the ocean. Throwing off her blanket and twisting in her sheets, Katrina devilishly smiled. She loved watching nightmares—the way someone thrashed, consternation and fear in their expressions, playing out events that were unreal. She used to question why she liked them so much, finally deciding it was because she was a nightmare herself, and she could identify with them.

This had only been a scouting mission, so Katrina didn't stay for long, the cramped bedroom filling her with claustrophobia. Unhooking her legs from the window ledge, turning to look outside, and finding still no one in sight, Katrina flew into the air and toward the forest, anticipating the embrace of the night.

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The next morning, Emma found herself awake earlier than usual, having slept rather fitfully. She listened to the mild pattering of rain outside for a few minutes before wandering into the kitchen, happy to see that Henry, David and Mary Margaret were already up.

"Good morning," Emma yawned in the direction of her family, who was sitting at the kitchen table quietly talking over breakfast.

"Good morning, Emma," Mary Margaret said brightly.

"Good morning, Mom. Oh, I need to get to school early today to meet Grace to work on a project. Can I go?" Henry spoke very quickly.

Feeling bombarded by too much information and sound, but knowing that was just her son, she answered, "Sure, kid, I'll catch you later, and grab a raincoat." She walked over to him, hugging him just before he snatched his bag and coat and left.

As soon as Henry had closed the door, Mary Margaret and David looked at each other, pointing back and forth silently. As Emma turned around, they quickly held hands across the table and smiled guiltily.

"What?" Emma deadpanned, knowing something was up with her parents.

Glancing at her husband, Mary Margaret looked back at Emma and said haltingly, "David and I have something we wish to discuss with you… but maybe you should get your coffee first."

"That bad, huh?" Emma grabbed a cup from the dish strainer and poured herself a cup of the steaming brew, inhaling the delicious scent and letting the fumes clear her foggy brain.

Walking back to the dining room, Mary Margaret patted the chair next to her, inviting Emma to join them at the table. Looking at David again, whose expression said he wished he were anywhere but there, she started, "We wanted to discuss our living arrangements… It just… It just seems a bit crowded here with the three of us, four with Henry, and… well… we were wondering how much longer you were planning on living here?" The last part came out in a rush, and Mary Margaret looked relieved to have gotten it all out.

What? Emma was sure they would want to find their own place, not stay at the loft. When she imagined this conversation, she had hoped to gently persuade them that they could move out whenever they found a new place. She never imagined she'd be the one to leave.

Mouth hanging open slightly, and schooling her thoughts, Emma replied, "Oh, I didn't know. I just assumed you guys would want a house or something, especially if you're planning more children." She looked over at David, who was smiling blandly and staying quiet.

Mary Margaret continued, "We talked about it and decided that we really like it here. The location is a perfect distance from the school, the station, and the park. With everything in walking distance, it seems like a good choice to stay here in the middle of town." Eyes downcast, she added, "I'm sorry to spring this on you. Don't think you have to move out right away or anything, we were just thinking you might want some privacy too."

Emma knew that translated into _their_ wanting some privacy, but she didn't push it. Rubbing her hand over her face, and with a very fleeting thought of the Jolly Roger, she replied, "It's ok. I figured this was coming at some point. I'll start checking around for places and let you know when I have some contenders." She smiled weakly, realizing she'd likely be dealing with Neal, who had inherited all of his father's property. Hopefully he wouldn't make things difficult.

"Are you sure, honey?" Mary Margaret looked expectant, praying Emma wouldn't shut her out again.

"Hey. Really. I'm ok. Don't worry, Mom." Calling Mary Margaret 'Mom' always brightened her face. Knowing that, Emma used it for times when Mary Margaret needed cheering up.

Smiling happily again, Mary Margaret asked "So what do you guys have going on at the office today?"

David answered this time, "Not too much. There are a couple of zoning issues to take care of in conjunction with the court, but that's about it. Of course, the paperwork from that alone could make us want to crawl under the table."

Emma smiled and nodded at that comment. It was so true. Storybrooke had yet to join the rest of the world by putting everything on computers. They had a simple word processor for typing and printing, but everything still had to be filed, with multiple copies going to the appropriate places.

Finishing her coffee, Emma left the table to bring her cup to the sink. "I'm going to shower and get to the station. I'll see you guys later today." She smiled at Mary Margaret one more time to let her know there were no hard feelings.

Climbing the steps to her bedroom and grabbing the clothes she needed, Emma stepped into the steaming shower, trying to erase the dregs of the dream she'd had the night before. It had started out well—she was with Killian, cuddling and bantering quietly. She had felt his arms around her, felt his joy emanating from his words and transforming her fear of relationships into trust. And then suddenly he had been whisked away. She had been alone, fighting, calling his name, only to be surrounded by a thick gray fog that blacked out all images and dampened every noise. Someone had been there, watching her. She could hear his breathing and feel his eyes on her, as though she were being stalked.

The reminder of the dream brought chills to Emma's skin, even with the hot water from the shower. She shook it off, focusing on the present, and thought instead about Killian and the way he looked when she was leaving the Jolly Roger. That thought brought chills to her skin for a completely different reason.

As she washed her hair, she closed her eyes and pictured his handsome face, sleepy and relaxed, smiling and touching hers. Then she could feel his hand and wrist in her hair, and he was washing it for her, scrubbing and massaging her scalp. He was so good with only one hand. She dropped her hands to her side, and felt him press into the front of her body. Gasping, she put her hands to his chest to feel his muscular torso under her fingers, slippery from the soap of the shampoo. He trailed his right hand down her left side, his handless wrist tracing her right side, down her face, her shoulders, her arms, and her waist, crossing around to her lower back and pulling her against him. "Oh!"

The sound of her voice woke her instantly from her reverie. Her eyes were open now, and she was in the shower in her apartment, and Killian was nowhere in sight. Breath heaving, thoughts amuck, Emma slowly finished her shower. Those sensations were too real to be her imagination, weren't they? She continued getting ready for work, all while fighting a very fierce urge to race straight to the Jolly Roger.

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After Emma had departed to meet Neal, Killian felt like he could walk across the water if someone asked him too. His lass had stayed with him; she trusted him with her stories, her past and most importantly, her heart. He wandered around the deck of the boat, his body about to explode with joy, his skin the only thing holding him together. He found little projects to do that didn't include sanding and oiling. The memories of their workday were too fresh for him to focus on the tasks he had tackled with Emma. He would save those for another time, preferably when she could help him again.

The next morning, he woke to drizzling rain, softly beating on the deck of the boat. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, he sprinted over to the showers. The hot water warmed his rain-chilled skin and he thought about his day, acknowledging that he'd be working below deck, and trying to figure out which task to start with. Soaping his hair with his hand and his wrist, he suddenly felt Emma in front of him. Closing his eyes, he combed his fingers through her long hair, gently massaging the muscles of her scalp and her neck. Her hands went to his chest, grazing the hair there. She was wet, she was naked, and his body instantly responded to her touch. Clasping his arms around her waist, he pulled her too him, delighting in the gasp that escaped her lips.

And then she was gone, as if she had never been, a teasing apparition that left him with a lingering desire that would require her physical presence for appeasement. Frowning at first, and then smiling, he could smell vanilla. Maybe she had been there after all.

He was happier than he'd been in centuries.

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Tonight was a work night for Katrina, and so she would need Carl to cover for her, now that she was ready to put her plan into action. Carl Lowenstein worked as custodian for the morgue. He was a creepy little man, black haired and thin, and a nighttime wanderer who never slept much. He kept the same hours she did and was in love with her. She had used his feelings to her advantage of course, and he had proven to be a useful ally, especially right after the curse had broken.

It had happened during the day, and she had been at her house, located outside of town, sleeping with her blackout curtains darkening the room. Waking that evening to a cache of memories and an incredible thirst, she took the first victim she had seen on her way to work, a camper wandering around lost on the country road and mumbling about finding his loved ones. The taste of his warm blood trickling down the back of her throat filled her with ecstasy, and he was an empty shell quicker than she would have liked.

Tossing him into the back of her truck, she worked out a plan to dispose of the corpse and to continue her blood soaked meals without detection. Arriving at work, she called Carl to her, and taking him by surprise, she grabbed him and drank from him, just enough to cloud his vision and muddy his thoughts. Gazing at her like a puppy dog at his master, she had him help her turn off the security cameras and fire up the incinerator. She had the perfect job to hide her identity.

The only other issue was sunlight; she needed a safe and lightless place to sleep. Until Carl had found her crypt, she had slept in the cold storage of the morgue every day, the air chilling her to the bone, with Carl watching out for her, knowing she could completely trust his devotion. One day he had come to work with an eager gleam in his eyes, stating he had found the perfect place for her preternatural sleep. Driving way out into the country, past her own isolated house, he led her to her current daytime home. He told her he had found it during one of his tracking missions. She found out later that he liked to capture and experiment on small animals, staying well away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk. She had removed the concrete block that marked the entrance, putting it in the back of her truck and used his knowledge of the forest to dispose of it far away. The crypt turned out to be an old bomb shelter. She guessed it had been there even before Storybrooke existed, somehow escaping Regina's notice when she cast the curse. No matter, it had been perfect for her, and she now spent her days there, protected from the sunlight.

Reporting to the morgue at the same time as she had every night since beginning work there, she knew Carl would be nearby, waiting for her as always.

"Carl, come here," she snapped.

Immediately appearing, as if materializing from the walls, and keeping his eyes trained on his lovely boss, he answered, "Yes, mistress?" He achingly pulled back the collar of his shirt, inviting her drink from him.

She lowered her eyes to his shoulder and she licked her lips, leaving them parted slightly. "You must cover awhile for me tonight; I have other work. You'll do that won't you, darling?" She traced a long fingertip from his ear down his neck, lingering on the two bite marks that never had time to heal.

Breathless at her touch, he mumbled, "Of course… Anything." He was imploring her to take him then.

She wouldn't satisfy him—better to leave him wanting. Tugging his shirt collar back up with her right hand, she turned away from him, disgusted by his neediness.

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At the appropriate hour, which for Katrina was sometime around early morning, she slipped out of the morgue, and strolled to Emma Swan's apartment. Her body hummed with anticipation. Emma had magic, and Katrina loved the taste of magical creatures. They smelled different, cleaner somehow, and Katrina's devotion to cleanliness was obsessive-compulsive. Magic coursed through the lifeblood of magical creatures. That power would transfer to her for a time, enhancing her abilities and intoxicating her with the influence. Katrina looked forward to the slow taking of Emma Swan.

It had rained earlier that day, and the air was cool and humid. She loved how easy it was to breathe the crisp air, the tiny droplets of water like pinpricks on her face.

Glancing around to confirm that she was alone, she floated up to Emma's window, momentarily aggravated to find it closed against the chill night. No matter, one of the many advantages of her kind was that she could move fast, faster than any human could even detect. Standing on the air, she trained her ears on the sleeping woman in the bedroom. Listening to Emma's steady breathing, Katrina could tell she was sleeping on her side, facing away from the window. That was fortunate. Katrina planned out her movements before she struck, ensuring a seamless mission. She would have to be fast, very fast, to guarantee that Emma stayed asleep. Her goal was to be in and out of there in ten seconds or less, planning to drink just enough to begin the process of control over Emma.

Inhaling deeply again, slowing her heart-rate to almost undetectable levels, she attacked. Opening the window, rushing to the bed, she quickly lifted the blanket away from Emma's sleeping body. Choosing the location just beneath Emma's left buttock because it was easily hidden, she bit, savoring the metallic flavor that refreshed her the only way magic could. Getting up, she staggered a little and left. Emma wouldn't remember her presence.

She had only been gone from work for about ten minutes, and knew she didn't have to be back to the morgue just yet. So allowing the power surge from Emma's blood to fuel her flight, she flew into the forest, the flying creatures avoiding her in homage to the queen of the night.

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**If you're following this story, please let me hear from you. This is hard work and I want to know whether or not you guys think it's worth finishing.**

**Thanks bunches, Revenessa, for everything!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again! As always, thanks for your reviews-you guys are so encouraging when the going gets tough. As for the vampire, I'm loosely following Anne Rice's canon, so she comes and goes as she pleases**. **Cheers!**

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Chapter 9

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Drierson, who's first name was Phil—although he never used it because it had been his father's name and he hated his father—went to work that day with a spring in his step. He had finished all his previous orders and could now start on the Prince's sword. The beauty of working in a steel factory meant that he could use some of the new alloys that were available to add strength to the blade. Drierson had been excited the day Henry had commissioned the project, thinking he was a delightful, well-informed boy with quite an imagination. He had never made a sword for a prince before, and it was quite an honor to be chosen. It would be his best work yet.

Unlocking the door to the factory, he inhaled the thick air, smiling into the gloom. He flipped on the lights and then startled at the face of his wife's younger brother appearing out of nowhere. "Carl! You scared the hell out of me!"

Carl smiled, devilishly enjoying the older man's discomfiture. Holding up a steel trap and motioning to it, he jeered, "Hello, Phil, my trap broke—the one for large animals. I need you to fix it this week." His expression was serious and intense.

Drierson didn't like his brother in law. Carl had lived with them up until the curse broke, working nights at the morgue and avoiding his family as much as possible, which was fine by him. Carl was three years younger than his wife, making him forty-two. Before the curse, Carl had worked as a nighttime tracker, trapping large and dangerous animals for the kingdom. He still trapped animals, although Drierson never understood why—there was no need for it anymore. Obviously flustered, he grunted, "I'll fix it, just leave the blasted thing over there on the work table. And try to be more careful!"

"Certainly, Phil," he drew out with disdain, intentionally using the name Drierson hated. He deposited the trap on the work bench and left. Getting into his nineties Honda hatchback, a tiny car for a tiny man, he sped off to his home, Katrina's old residence. He would sleep for a little while, enveloped in her scent, and then go out and check his traps before reporting to the morgue.

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The day had broken clear and chilly, a cold snap that signaled winter was not quite ready to retreat. Bundling up, Emma went to the office, grateful that her interactions with David and Mary Margaret had not been awkward after their conversation about her moving out. She realized it was time she left her parents, the irony not lost on her considering she'd spent most of her childhood alone and without any family connections. Truth be told, she was sad to be going, but a little excited too; the thought of having her own place again, surrounded by her own things, filled her with a surprising longing. Emma was accustomed to remaining unattached to objects and mementoes, never having had many of her own.

But this was a fresh start, her own place to decorate and make into a home for her and Henry. Emma knew it was unlikely she'd ever be truly alone again, even if she did have her own house. Mary Margaret would make sure of that, and then there was Henry. That kid could keep anyone from getting too self-involved—especially with all his adventures and antics.

She arrived at the office and went straight to the coffee pot. Normally she just drank two cups at home, but last night had been another restless one, so she felt a third was in order. Getting the coffee going, she went back to her desk to straighten out the paperwork from the zone changes the day before. That had been a nightmare, and thank God David had been there to sort it all out. He was the Prince, and the people respected him as such. The zone change had gone through, so now it was multiple copies of reports and documents to be filed and posted.

Coffee ready, Emma grabbed her cup and sat down to the hours of paperwork ahead of her.

Not realizing how much time had passed, David walked in, cheerful as usual. "Hi Emma, what's on the books for today?"

Emma sighed, rubbing her temples and glancing at her coffee cup that she had already refilled twice. "Just the paperwork from yesterday. I'm drowning in it."

"Don't I know what you mean," he laughed. "Why don't you let me take over and you take a break."

"Deal," she said, a little too quickly. She smiled at David, grateful he was there, not realizing the quiet morning had actually been too quiet. Emma usually liked the calm hours at the station to collect her thoughts before David came in, because once he arrived, her day didn't quit until she was in bed, especially on the weeks she had Henry.

As she filled David in, Killian walked in with a huge smile on his face, in anticipation of seeing his Swan.

"Good morning, Swan, David," he beamed. "I came to ask if milady would join me for lunch."

Stomach flipping at the site of him in his full pirate costume, Emma tentatively smiled, glancing over at David to gauge his reaction. She was nervous about revealing how much her feelings had changed toward the pirate.

Unsure but resigned, David looked back over at Emma, face impassive. "Go ahead, you deserve to get out for awhile." He watched her sigh and smile, tidying up her desk, before standing. He hadn't missed the elation in her eyes when Hook had walked in, seeming genuinely happy to see him, instead of her usual annoyed stance whenever he was around.

Killian smiled and nodded a thank you over to David, respecting her protective father. Placing his hand on her lower back, he guided her out the door. The chivalrous gesture was not lost on Emma, who looked over at Killian and smiled again. It was nice to feel cherished.

As soon as they were out of her father's sight, Killian used his hand to gather Emma close. He leaned over to plant a kiss on her mouth, very casual and sweet. "How's my lass today?"

Emma kissed him back, lingering for a moment at his mouth, taking in his spicy scent. "I'm good, a little tired, but good. I haven't slept well the past couple of nights, and my brain is fried from all the paper shuffling this morning." She didn't want to complain, so she left it at that; she wanted him to know she was happy to see him. "How about you?"

He began leading her in the direction of Granny's, never removing his arm from around her waist.

"Still sanding. I worked on the interior yesterday, on account of the rain." At her questioning eyes, he continued, "Some of the door frames were splintering where the paint was removed, and I want to repaint them eventually."

"Remind me to avoid that day. At least linseed oil doesn't stain." The memory brought a smile to her eyes, and she leaned into him.

"Ah, but the thought of cleanup… you might need _extra assistance_ in removing paint from your skin," he winked, remembering the daydream of his Swan in the shower, soaping her hair…

She blushed in response, thinking of the same thing he was, and hoping he wouldn't notice her agitation.

He did notice, of course. "A blush? Is that a blush I detect?" then, his voice dropping an octave and his arm squeezing her closer to his side, "I love the effect I have on you, lass."

"Wait." Emma hesitated at the door of the busy restaurant, reluctant to go in with Killian's arm around her, essentially broadcasting to the town that they were together. She was normally a private person who preferred anonymity. Being the savior had brought celebrity that made her uncomfortable.

Emma gently pushed his arm down from her waist. He resisted for a couple of seconds, annoyed with her until he saw her expression. At first he worried that she didn't want to be seen with him, but then he saw that she looked vulnerable, her body tensing and her pupils dilating with trepidation. His eyes followed her gaze, scanning the crowded place through the glass panel of the door, her features guarded as she sighed. He realized then that his lass was struggling with the thought of the attention that their relationship would probably bring her. Squeezing her again, and then letting her go, he leaned in close and reassured her, "It'll be fine, lass. I'm not leaving your side." _Ever_, he wanted to add.

Fortified, she nodded, and walked inside, with her pirate at her back.

They picked a booth, sitting across from each other. Ruby sauntered over, her eyebrows raised with a knowing grin on her face. "And what can I get you two?" She emphasized the two, asking the status of their relationship along with their order.

Emma shook her head at the nosy waitress, and Killian just grinned, happy to be associated with Emma as more than just acquaintances in such a public place.

As they ordered, hamburgers and French fries for each, Ruby's eyes glazed over and she sniffed the air. Then shaking her head and coming back to the present, she smiled and glided away behind the counter.

Killian just looked at Emma and whispered, "She may be attractive, but she's a bit strange, that one."

Emma struggled to suppress a giggle, but knew exactly what he meant.

No one else bothered them, and Ruby delivered their order to the table and then stayed away, giving them the illusion of privacy, because she intended to listen to every word they spoke.

Emma felt like she was with Henry as Killian ate his lunch. He loved hamburgers and French fries and his face reflected his fancy. He was nearly moaning over every bite, remarking on the perfect combination of cheese and meat and soft bread. His sounds washed over her ears, speaking of what could be between them if she'd let her guard down long enough to really explore it.

"So tell me the contents of your days since we've been apart."

She told him about the zoning fiasco and the paperwork involved, eliciting a knowing laugh from him as she described the way David had saved the day by pulling his "Prince" card. Old habits died hard, she guessed, because when Prince Charming made a decision, no one questioned it.

He told her about his latest conversation with Daniel Albright, the hardware store owner.

"His daughter Ella is dating a man named Mike. They've been discussing marriage, and when he showed up at her house with a small velvet box, she nearly jumped out of her skin thinking it was a ring. Imagine her surprise when the box revealed a cowhide belt buckle—I can't imagine anything so hideous—complete with the actual hair from the cow! Enraged, she started yelling at him, to which he responded, 'Well, my last girlfriend loved hers.' I was doubled over in laughter. How could any bloke be so obtuse when it comes to women?"

The story and his infectious laughter had Emma in stitches. She didn't know Daniel Albright, but Killian was a good narrator, and she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

The lovely conversation and delicious lunch were over all too quickly. Killian paid the tab and Emma said goodbye to Ruby. Ruby watched them leave, a strange expression on her face. She sniffed the spot where Emma had been, the sharp odor of blood in the air.

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Carl drove himself along the edge of the forest, finally finding his marker and parking off the road far enough to be undetected by passersby. Donning his rubber boots, he grabbed his leather knapsack and knife case. He hiked about a mile, searching for the marker that signaled his first trap. He found it, empty. It was one of his smaller ones—perfect for capturing rodents.

Undaunted, he continued on, toward his larger traps. He had placed a couple of them near a stream where obvious deer tracks were discernible among the soft mud around the water's edge. He hoped to capture one of the group after they crossed the water.

As luck would have it, a doe was struggling against the clamp on her right front leg. Looking around, he noticed a fawn nearby, pawing at the soft earth and nervously watching its mother. Carl clasped his hands together, rubbing them back and forth with glee. He opened his knapsack and pulled out a plastic apron and surgical gloves, putting them on over his simple gray cotton slacks and gray shirt. He opened his knife case to reveal several different tools and blades, each with their own menacing job. Removing a thin scalpel, he approached the wary doe.

The animal stopped her struggling to glare at the little man approaching her from the front. Carl quickly bent over her and severed her spinal column above her hind legs to render them useless if she tried to kick. Her back end failed and she splayed on the ground. She could still use her front paw and her head, but he would soon have her in so much pain that she would cease to be a threat.

He continued his ministrations, using his knives to trace blood red patterns in her skin, all while the fawn watched from nearby. When the doe finally died, he drank the air deeply, as if inhaling her last breath, and sat back to survey his work. Finally calm, like a junkie who had had his fix, he released her front paw from the trap. He packed up and walked away, watching as the fawn gently nudged her lifeless body, and left them to the wild woods.

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Killian and Emma walked back to the office, and not wanting to part from her pirate so soon, she invited, "Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee to warm you before heading back to the land of manual labor?"

Killian smiled in assent, this was the first time she had asked him to do something. "If it's not a nuisance, I would love to accept, milady." He bowed.

Emma grinned and shook her head, "Come on then."

As Emma walked over to the coffee pot, Killian sat in a chair across from David's desk, asking how the paperwork was going.

"Dreadfully dull. But at least it's simple work," David replied easily, and asked about lunch.

Just as Emma handed Killian his coffee, a distraught woman with hair sticking out all over walked in the door. She was petite, a little round, and wringing her hands.

Talking extremely quickly, in a strong country accent, she rambled, "I need help. I need help. My husband is missing… nowhere to be found… disappeared! I don't know what to do, or who to tell or where to go…"

Stopping her rant by putting his hand up, David said, "Slow down, please. Here, sit here." He motioned over at Killian who stood up, relinquishing his chair to the troubled woman.

"Now, what is your name, who is your husband, and how long has he been missing?" David pulled out a missing person's report and began filling in the appropriate information. Emma and Killian stood to the side, listening and observing.

Calmer now, she started, "My name is Mable Anderson and my husband is Lonnie. I don't know how long he's been missing. He goes out on fishing trips for days occasionally, and I thought that's where he was. But when I went to the harbor to check for his boat, it was still there, and I knew something was wrong. Lonnie's a creature of habit, he wouldn't go anywhere else."

Trying again, David asked, "When did you notice he was missing?"

Relaxing a little more, she cocked her head to the side and answered, "Well, that's hard to say. I checked his house yesterday evening and he wasn't there, so I just assumed he was out fishing, figuring I'd check the harbor this morning. I did, and he wasn't there, but his boat was still in the slip. So I went to the fishmonger and asked him the last time he'd seen Lonnie. He said not since Friday."

Noting that Lonnie seemed to have a separate house from Mable, Emma questioned, "Does your husband live with you?"

"Oh, no. We haven't lived together for years. I love the man, but I couldn't live with him."

"When was the last time you saw him, and do you have any children?"

"I guess it was about three weeks ago. I went over to his place and we ate dinner together, caught up on people we know. Then I left and that was it. No, we don't have any children."

David asked more questions about his description, address, his hangouts, his patterns, and wrote everything down on the report. Then looking back at Mable with a serious expression, he said, "We'll investigate his home and boat and see if anything turns up. We'll notify you immediately of any information we learn."

Not quite satisfied, Mable asked, "Is that it? What if someone took him or what if he's d… dead?" Her face looked horrified at the thought.

Ever honest, running his hand over his face, David responded, "The truth is it's not against the law to be missing. It's more likely that Lonnie decided to disappear for some reason than to suspect foul play. He sounds like he was quite a loner, and you haven't given us any reason to suspect he had any enemies."

Mable's face fell at the suggestion that Lonnie might leave without letting her know something of his plans. But David, Emma and Killian could tell by her expression that she knew it was in fact entirely possible that he had left without a word.

Gently, David continued, "I promise we'll let you know if anything turns up. Here's my card, and if you gather any new information, please don't hesitate to contact me."

She took his card and shook his hand, nodding politely to Emma and Killian. Her entire demeanor had gone from nervous excitement to quiet sadness, as if she knew he was out of her life for good, but by his own choice, which was the ultimate affront.

Once the door had closed behind her, Emma addressed David, "Do you think it's odd that we have two missing persons in one week?"

"Not necessarily. I'm not borrowing any trouble. I think it's more likely he left for some reason, or the outside chance she's involved somehow. But we'll check out his home, because if he did leave, there's bound to be some kind of trace left—either missing clothes or pictures packed, something." David smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry, Emma."

Emma wasn't actually worried, but a warning signal was going off in the back of her mind, like a beacon from afar off. She couldn't place her feeling, because that's all it was, a feeling that something wasn't right. Glancing back at Killian, she said, "I need to get back to work before I meet Henry after school."

Recognizing their date was now officially over, Killian looked over at David to check his reaction while he walked over to Emma. When David stayed silent and impassive, he gently gazed at his lass, and then hugged her goodbye. She gripped him tightly for just a moment, and then let go, already missing the safety his arms always promised.

David observed the couple and then turned his head down, giving them a little privacy. He recognized the look on both their faces as they said goodbye; it was the same one he and Mary Margaret shared. That was a sobering thought he'd want to discuss with his wife.

After Killian left, Emma turned to him with a smile, "So, how far did you get on that stack of paper?" He grinned, and handing her some, they settled into a routine for the rest of the afternoon, with only the sound of shuffling paper disturbing the quiet.

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Later that day, Emma met Henry after school. His eyes were slightly downcast and she wondered what was bothering him. She didn't have to wait long.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, kid, how was your day?"

"The usual. I have a spelling test, math test, English test and science test tomorrow. Why do the teachers put all their tests on the same day? It must be a conspiracy."

"Ha. Yeah. I remember all too well when I was in school. That's just typical fare for your age," she smiled, glad that she was through with the exams and deadlines of school.

Walking back to the apartment, Emma decided to talk to Henry about her conversation with her parents. "I have some news."

Excited because he was Henry, and he was always excited by new information, "News? What news?" He leaned closer to her, not willing to miss a single detail.

"It looks like we're going to be looking for a place of our own."

"Really? We're not going to live at the loft anymore?" He looked disappointed, this news not being nearly as thrilling as he would have imagined.

"Mary Margaret and David want some privacy, and you have to admit, the place is kind of small." She looked over at him, noticing his sad expression.

"But that's what I like about it. We're all close to each other," he argued.

Putting her arm around his shoulders, she responded, "We'll still be close. I hope to find a place nearby so our routine won't have to change too much. I like being able to walk everywhere."

Henry considered for a minute. "I guess it would be nice to have my own room."

"That's the spirit," Emma smiled and nodded.

They continued on their way, enjoying each other's company and the pretty day.

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**I am actively trying to be a better writer, so any suggestions and/or constructive criticism is appreciated. And do any of you guys know of exercises that might help me think creatively? I read lots of fics and I'm amazed at the diversity! Thanks again to Revenessa for being my beta.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Katrina awoke to a beautiful spring evening. Dressing in her gray slacks and white button down shirt, she drove to the morgue, ready to face another night of paperwork—death certificates and checking any reports from the daytime lab workers.

She had been drinking from Emma every night that week, careful to always place her teeth in the exact same marks. She wondered if her fangs, only present when feeding, held a slight anesthetic because her victims didn't struggle when she took them. It was a rhetorical question, fueled by the scientist in her; she wouldn't ask her victims, and she was too old to remember what the first time had been like for her.

She chuckled, imagining Emma feeling a little out of sorts, maybe extra tired and foggy-headed, like she was catching a cold. That's how it always started. First, the person would feel like they had a cold, then their bodies would come to crave the drawing out of their blood.

She called them her devotees. Carl was one now; she'd drink from him a few times a week, always giving his body time to partially recover from the blood loss, and also slating her thirst in between her kills. Katrina only killed about once a week, and sometimes less. Killing more often than that could get sloppy, and Katrina was never sloppy.

Devotees only remained that way for a certain period of time. Eventually, she would draw so much blood that they would begin to crave blood too. Once she saw that change in their eyes, the longing for a taste of blood, she would take them quickly and completely drain them. Katrina had only passed on her curse a handful of times, with disastrous results, mainly involving the competition for resources that led to carelessness and then getting caught. Her only real vulnerability was her sleep, otherwise she was near invincible, and working alone kept her safe.

Parking in her reserved spot, Katrina then entered the building, stopping in the break room long enough to grab the newspaper, and going straight to her office in the basement, located just off her main dissecting lab. Her desk sat in the center of the room, her books and manuals lined up by height on the bookshelf behind it. Her credentials were framed and hung flawlessly straight on one wall. A coat rack sat in a corner, where her lab coat hung awaiting her next autopsy.

Perusing her office for anything out of order, she saw a lone paper that someone, perhaps a careless lab tech, had thrown on her desk. The sight of that cock-eyed paper, sitting with no purpose other than to disrupt her perfect space, infuriated her. She snatched it up, and instantly put it on top of the ordered stack on the corner of her desk. Placated when all was neat again, she sat in her chair and pulled out the newspaper. Learning much from it, she carefully read it each night.

She hissed at page 3, at a photograph of Lonnie Anderson, the fisherman she had disposed of earlier that week. It turned out he had a wife after all, and she had filed a report. Any information on his whereabouts was to be reported to the Sheriff's office. Damn! That was unlucky. The wife must have been estranged because she had never come near him while Katrina had been observing his solitary life. She would need to be more careful.

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The beautiful weather continued on Friday, but instead of waking up refreshed by the sunlight streaming through her curtains, Emma hid her eyes from the offending light. She was so tired, she felt like she hadn't slept a wink. But she must have because she had the nightmare again. This time it was more discernible and so lifelike. Gray fog surrounding her, she frowned into the thick air, trying to distinguish any sights or sounds. Then the fog cleared a little and she could see she was in the forest at night. The sound of something large and quickly approaching caused her to turn and run as fast as she could through the damp woods. The leaves crackled under her feet, the forest floor getting slippery as she continued sprinting, and she could hear the animal gaining on her as its breath grew louder, its heartbeat enlarged to a deafening pitch in her ears. Hearing a forceful growl, she ducked as she felt the paws of the animal graze her head. She woke up.

The terrifying dream caused her body to break into a cold sweat, and she hugged her knees, willing herself to calm down and go back to sleep. She did, dozing fitfully until morning.

She stumbled to the kitchen for coffee before her morning shower. Glancing at the clock, she jumped at the time, making her head spin a little. "Crap!"

David yelled from his bedroom, "Emma? You're still here?" Coming out already dressed for the day, he frowned as he took in her appearance and added, "I thought you were already at the station."

"No, I guess I slept in." She poured her coffee in disbelief, drank a few sips to try and clear her cloudy mind, and slowly took one stair at a time back to her room to shower quickly and change.

David watched her slow movement up the stairs, a worried frown etched on his face. She'd been tired for a few days now, and her being late to work was extremely unusual. He made a mental note to ask Mary Margaret if she had noticed anything odd about Emma, imagining her distracted conduct might have something to do with her recent warming up toward a certain pirate.

Not even ten minutes later, she grabbed her keys, waved goodbye and left for work.

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Killian couldn't remember the last time he'd had a nightmare, maybe when he lived in Neverland and was fighting impossible creatures. It started out well enough, he was playing hide and seek with Emma. Enclosed in a thick fog, he followed the sound of her teasing voice, catching the occasional glimpse of her svelte body clad in a flowing white dress. Then he heard her scream. He was roughly shoved up against the rough bark of a tree and tied securely to it. The fog cleared to reveal Emma running as fast as she could, the dress trailing behind, chased by a huge, black and gray wolf with ice blue eyes and open mouth, blood dripping from the teeth. He struggled against his bonds in vain; a shout tore from his throat to warn his lass. He saw her duck just as the creature leapt up… and then he was awake.

His sheets were torn from the bed and his blanket was on the floor. Getting up from the mattress, he began pacing the room, desperate to clear the too-real images from his mind. The dream left him feeling despondent and depressed, and looking outside to note the time, he dressed quickly feeling as though he'd spent the night in a bottle of rum. He needed to see Emma, needed to hold her in his arms to make sure she was safe and sound.

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It took four cups of coffee for her to wake up. Thankfully it was a slow day at the office, so Emma decided to use the time to look for new places. Rather than contact Neal directly, she called the local realtor's office first, and told the woman who answered the phone that she was looking for an apartment in town, with two bedrooms, two baths, and a full kitchen. Hanging up, she grabbed the newspaper she had bought on her way to work and began perusing the classifieds. Circling a few prospects to discuss with the realtor, she hoped to set up a couple of appointments for later that day, after Henry got out of school, thinking he would like to join her.

Just as she was hanging up the phone, Killian hurried in the door, and before she could stand up to greet him, he walked briskly around her desk, stopped to a halt next to her, spun her chair until she faced him, and then tugged her up with a breathless sigh. He wrapped his arms around her back and buried his face in her hair. Her arms naturally went around his neck as she hugged him back, swooning a little. "Swan," he breathed, reassuring himself that she was there and she was alive. Stepping back and brushing her hair away from her face, he asked, "Are you alright, lass?"

Her eyesight darkening for a second, she steadied herself in his arms, and not quite sure what he was talking about, she answered, "I guess so. The question is, are you?"

Inhaling deeply and giving her a bit of space, he began to pace the floor in front of her desk. "I had this horrible nightmare that involved you… and a wolf and… well, anyway, I guess you're fine, then." He stopped his march, and looked over at her sheepishly, embarrassed at how he must appear.

Her head snapped up at the words "you and a wolf". Was it possible they'd had the same dream? Narrowing her eyes, she tentatively asked, "What about me and a wolf exactly?"

Recovering from his anxiety over her safety, and not wanting to relive the horrible account, he smiled gently, "No matter, lass, it was just a dream." Noting her pale face, he continued, "Now, tell me how you're doing," the concerned look never leaving his face.

Still wary, hands fisting at her side, Emma confided, "That's just it, I've been having nightmares about being watched. Last night the dream was clearer… I could have sworn I was being chased by a creature that could have easily been a wolf."

Her admission startled him. "What do you mean?"

She recounted the details of her dream, her eyes faraway. Shaking with the memory, she finished her story and focused her eyes on him, just as he embraced her again.

"Incredible," he said in disbelief. "Mine was similar, only I was watching the whole scene while fixed to a tree."

Emma sighed, melting into his embrace and drinking from his strength. The steady beat of his heart revived her soul and she was able to close her eyes and truly relax. They held each other for what seemed an hour, although it was actually a few minutes, his arms encircling her waist and her head resting on his shoulder, incredulity etched on both their faces. What was happening to them?

After a time, Killian broke the silence and looked into Emma's eyes. "We'll face this together too, lass."

She smiled at the guarantee those words offered, the promise that he'd never leave her side. "Good." She looked into his gorgeous eyes, and kissed him lightly on the mouth, to seal their deal.

But Killian wasn't having it. After the horrible dream, and reassuring himself she was alive and well, he kissed her back with the longing that comes from love almost lost. His Swan was there, he could taste her delectable mouth, smell her vanilla-scented hair. Moving his hand to the back of her neck, he pulled her closer to him, slanting his mouth over hers to gain deeper access.

She responded hungrily, comforted by his presence and his strong arms enveloping her.

Just as Killian began to trail his mouth down the side of her neck, they heard, "Ahem."

Breaking apart, Emma glanced around Killian's back to see David standing in the station doorway, a bemused expression on his face. She looked back into Killian's eyes, clouded by frustration at being interrupted; and stepping out of his embrace, she walked back over to her desk, cheeks flushed by the recent events. "Sorry," she grunted under her breath.

Unsure of how he was going to handle it, David simply went to his own desk and sat down, putting his feet up on the corner of the desk and folding his arms over his chest.

Taking that as his cue, Killian leaned down to whisper in Emma's ear, "Find me later, lass?"

She quietly nodded, avoiding his eyes, knowing the unresolved conflict she'd find there.

As soon as he was gone, David pressed, "Care to talk about it?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Emma responded innocently, trying to hide the guilty I've-been-caught-red-handed feeling. He may be her father, but they really were close in age. She had to remember that at times likes this.

"I mean, _him_." David pointed his thumb in the direction of the door.

"Oh. No, not really." She hoped she might get by with sharing as little information as possible.

"Emma, I'm not the enemy here. I respect your right to privacy, but it seems to me that things may be _escalating_ between you too. Are you sure you're ready for what that means?"

How could she explain that she felt connected to Killian? That their dreams were somehow intertwined? How could she explain what she didn't understand herself?

Staying mute, she only looked over at him.

He continued, "And what about Neal?"

Now that she could answer. "I have no plans to date Neal. I'll always love him, but we're different now and… well… my heart is in a different place." There, she'd halfway admitted to David that she was interested in Killian.

Relaxing a little, and not entirely surprised, David responded, "Hmm… Well, I have to admit Hook does kind of grow on you after a while." He smiled tentatively at her, letting her know that he would respect her wishes. The hard part was the conversation he definitely needed to have with his wife.

"Thanks," Emma sighed, then gaining confidence, "Hey, can you guys watch Henry tonight? Killian asked me over, and there's something I need to discuss with him."

"Really? Because it didn't look like much conversation was happening from where I was standing," he teased, waiting to go on until he saw the blush appear on his daughter's cheeks, then, "Yeah, you go on, I'll handle your mother." Because that was the real issue.

She smiled with a knowing grin, Mary Margaret could be stubborn to say the least. Then focusing back on work she asked, "Did you find out anything about Lonnie Anderson?"

David had spent the last couple of days asking questions around town, placing an article in the newspaper and investigating his home and boat. "No, nothing. No one seems to know where he might have gone. And the funny thing, is that his house is untouched, as though he literally got up and walked away with nothing but the clothes on his back. There was no sign of a struggle or things strewn around. Nothing. I'm not sure what to make of it, so I'll just leave it and see if anything happens to turn up."

Something about the missing fisherman still bothered Emma, but with nothing else to go on but her gut, she'd have to wait until further evidence presented itself.

Just then, the phone rang, the realtor's office. Emma and Henry were going apartment shopping after school.


	11. Chapter 11

**Another chapter for all you lovely readers! Thanks again to all who read, review, follow and fav. Next chapter we learn some of Kat's backstory, so stay tuned!**

**To : David and MM's discussion about Emma is included-hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 11

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That night Katrina didn't have to report to the morgue. On such nights she roamed the forest, watching for potential victims, but mostly observing the wildlife that cherished the darkness as much as she did. In that respect she had simple tastes, well, relatively.

She would have to visit Emma again at some point in the evening, but that could wait. Free from the probing eyes of Carl, Katrina soared to the outskirts of the forest, stopping just short of the open fields and country roads dotted by the occasional house. She watched the twinkling porch lights from a distance, listening to the conversations of the occupants within, depending on which house she turned her attention to, the beautiful nightmare always looking for new prey.

A figure skulking near the tree line caught her attention. Training her eyes on his down-turned face, she recognized Carl, setting a trap near a huge oak tree. She watched as he covered it with leaves to hide its presence, and then slowly stalked a little further away, perusing the ground and the branches of the bushes that scraped across the imaginary path he was following. She supposed he was tracking something, small by the looks of the trap. Without announcing her presence, she turned away from her annoying but necessary coworker, and flew deep into the forest.

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As soon as Emma left for the evening, and Henry was taking his bath, David motioned Mary Margaret over to the couch where he was sitting, feet propped on the coffee table. She smiled and sat down next to him, sliding into the crook of his shoulder as he put his arm around her.

He kissed her short, dark hair, breathing in the scent of the shampoo that seemed to smell different in her hair than in his. He loved his wife… her fire, her passion… her body. He loved that things had finally settled down for them and he could actually enjoy being married to her without some new threat working to tear them apart.

He stroked her arm while she played with the fingers of his other hand. Without preamble, he pointedly asked, "Have you noticed anything off about Emma?"

Mary Margaret stilled her fingers and answered, "I don't think so, other than her being especially tired. Why?" She started thinking about the events of the week, trying to remember if Emma had said or done anything out of the ordinary.

"Hook came by the station a couple of times this week."

"Is that different from his usual behavior? I thought he was always trying to needle Emma into going out with him." David could tell by her tone she disliked that precise behavior.

"Well, this time I caught them sharing 'the look' and quite a passionate kiss." He kept his voice level, hoping to appear nonchalant so his wife wouldn't over-react.

"What look? A kiss? What's going on? I thought Emma was avoiding Hook and thinking about rekindling things with Neal. I've even heard her tell Neal she loved him!" Mary Margaret started to fuss a bit, pulling out of his embrace and looking him square in the face.

David put his hands up. "I know, I know. I just wanted you to know that I witnessed something… different. She looked at him… well… the way you look at me." He spoke haltingly, afraid Mary Margaret would get herself too worked up. His eyes implored her to think about what he was saying before jumping to conclusions.

Mary Margaret pursed her lips, her body stock-still. Could it be true? Had Emma found true love with Hook… of all people? After the shock wore off, she thought back over the past few months, how they behaved around each other, how Hook seemed to be the only one to ever get a rise out of her, how she fought against him at every turn. Mary Margaret gasped in realization. Eyes wide with surprise she said, "I guess I should have known all along. I think this has been happening for awhile. Why didn't we see it sooner?"

"My guess is that we didn't want to. He was a villain, after all."

Still absorbed in thought, she added softly, "But he hasn't been a villain in a long time."

David quietly agreed. "No, I don't think he has. I think maybe our daughter has changed the fearsome pirate into a man in love."

Mary Margaret settled back into David's arms, calmly considering this new revelation. She loved Emma and she loved true love. Emma would have her happy ending if Mary Margaret had anything to say about it.

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Emma drove to the Jolly Roger, too exhausted to walk the entire way. It had been a long day, but she looked forward to seeing Killian, and to relaxing in his embrace. She never imagined she could need his touch so much. Climbing aboard, she saw him sitting on the opposite rail, obviously waiting for her. As soon as her feet hit the deck, he pulled her to him, brushing his scruff against her cheek, and whispered, "Good evening, beautiful."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sagged into him, delighting in the love she felt in his arms.

He pulled back and looked into her shining face, "Have you eaten yet?"

She shook her head and he led her below deck to the galley. He pulled out a fresh loaf of bread and a block of cheese, skillfully cutting a few pieces and breaking off chunks of the bread. "Would you like a glass of wine, lass?"

"Wine? Since when did the Jolly Roger ever serve wine?" she teased.

"Since I considered that you might prefer it to rum." He inclined his head, silently asking if he was correct in his assumption.

She laughed out loud. "Yes, you old goat. I do prefer wine to rum—red especially."

"I would expect nothing less, love," then he paused, looking up at her with one of his playful eyebrows raised, "Old goat? Do I smell or something?" He started sniffing the air around him, lifting his arms and taking a whiff under the lapel of his jacket.

Suppressing a giggle, Emma moved closer to him, put her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply. He definitely did not smell like an old goat. He smelled of wood and linseed oil, clear ocean water, spicy bay rum and just… Killian.

His arm snaked around her in response, her nose cold next to his warm neck. "Are you warm enough, lass?" She was wearing her red jacket over a shirt and jeans, but he worried that her jacket wasn't heavy enough for the early spring weather.

"I am now." She looked up into his bright blue eyes and held them for a long moment. Training her gaze on his mouth, she brushed her lips against his.

Killian froze. She was so perfect right there in his arms, and he would have her in a minute if he thought she was ready. But he knew she wasn't quite there yet, so he allowed her to kiss him, and rather than deepening it like every cell in his body wanted to, he turned away to catch his breath and pour her wine. He was, after all, a patient man.

Sipping the jewel-toned liquid, she savored the slight burn as it washed down her throat, tracing a path of warmth to her belly. Killian looked so handsome, so comfortable in his own surroundings, ever the gentleman and so considerate of her.

Taking the loaf and the cheese slices, he led her back out to the deck and to a blanket he had already spread out next to the railing. He had placed pillows along the edge and up against the railing itself. She would have seen the setup when she arrived if she hadn't been so distracted by a certain pirate.

He motioned to her to make herself comfortable and then settled himself next to her, taking a couple of bites of cheese and pulling his flask from one of his jacket pockets. He took a swig and leaned back, putting his left arm around her shoulders and watching the stars.

Leaning against him, her head on his shoulder and her right hand on his thigh—burning a hole in it—she stayed quiet for awhile, and just when he thought he was going to have to ask her a question to draw her out like he had last time, she started talking.

"I broke it off with Neal."

Now that was unexpected. He had hoped with all his being that she would choose him, but he feared she might still be holding back with him because of some lingering and confusing feelings about Neal. He looked down at her, head inclined and eyes questioning.

"I told him that I didn't have the energy to make a relationship work between us anymore. We had great fun all those years ago… He was my first love and I would have followed him anywhere, but it's different now… We're… different now." She took another sip of wine, and kept her eyes focused ahead, nervous to admit to the feelings Killian evoked.

She continued uncertainly, "I wanted you to know because I want to give this a chance… _us_ a chance." She looked down at her wine glass, swirling the liquid to calm her racing heart.

When Killian didn't respond, she turned toward him to see astonishment on his face, which quickly turned into yearning for their now possible future together. He wanted to gather her up into his arms and press kisses all over her face, her neck, and anywhere she'd let his hand trace. Controlling his desires, he squeezed her tightly to him and responded huskily, "I had no idea you had made your choice."

"Didn't you?" She reached up to comb his hair away from his forehead, then stilled her hand on his cheek.

He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, turning his mouth to her palm and placing a chaste kiss there, and wishing with all his might that he could tell her he loved her. He held back, knowing she didn't quite feel the same way, and still afraid his Swan would decide to fly away.

She sat quietly a moment, allowing his scruff to tickle her palm, and then dropped her hand to his chest, "There's something else too. I'm going to be moving out of the loft. Mary Margaret and David want the place to themselves now that they're trying for a baby." Part of her felt like she was being kicked out and replaced by a baby, but that was ridiculous and she knew it. Mary Margaret and David were young and would make wonderful parents for a growing child, and they loved her with a protectiveness that bordered on smothering.

Sensing her conflict and desiring that she not dwell on it, he retorted, "Oi, I suppose that could get uncomfortable."

She grinned and nodded. "You have no idea. We may be similar in age, but they're still my parents."

He laughed, wishing he could offer her a place in his home like she already possessed in his heart, but he sensed that even though she was giving them a chance, she still didn't quite trust that a relationship could really work between them.

Changing the subject to Henry, she talked about how amazing he was and some of their conversations. She was proud of her son, proud of his gentle heart and consideration of others.

Emma talked and Killian listened. He continued to sip his rum, staring at the stars. After a few minutes, he realized she had stopped talking. He looked down to find that she was sleeping soundly. Scooting down a little so that his head was resting on the pillow behind him, and taking Emma with him, snuggled into his side, he wrapped the edges of the blanket around them and fell asleep next to her.

Emma slept like the dead.

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Katrina's witching hour approached. Gleaning the time from the starlight and forest sounds, she made her way to Emma's apartment for her nightly feeding.

Outside the closed window, she listened for Emma's breathing. Hearing nothing, she trained her ears more intensely at the supposedly sleeping form. Nothing. Risking that Emma might be awake, even though she heard no stirring, Katrina quickly opened the window and moved into the room. Empty.

Flying out into the night, she howled like a banshee, angry at not being able to drink from the magical woman. Suspecting Emma's whereabouts, she flew to the harbor, to the mast of the ship that overlooked the Jolly Roger but kept her well-hidden from view. Directing her eyes at the deck of the ship she saw the peacefully sleeping couple with their arms wrapped around each other.

She howled again, this time a low and menacing groan that blended into the wind whipping around her face in response to her emotion. She hated Jones, and she hated that he had found true love when she had been thwarted from hers. She hated Emma Swan and her magic. Katrina would have her revenge soon.

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Emma awoke early, not moving as she tried to place her whereabouts. Remembering the night before, and marveling at her ability to sleep on the deck of his ship a second time, she settled into Killian's chest, his heart beat slow and steady beneath her cheek, his hook tenderly pressed against her lower back. At ease and relaxed for the first time in a week, she gently angled her head to look up at his sleeping face. His handsome features took her breath away, and she almost giggled at the thought of what some of the people from her past would say if they saw her now—snuggled up against the fearsome Captain Hook.

The sun began its slow ascent on the horizon, so Emma quietly slipped out of Killian's arms, careful not to disturb him as she moved. He looked so peaceful and calm. She traced a finger around his mouth and placed a chaste kiss there, before tiptoeing off the Jolly Roger to get a paper and pencil from her car to leave him a note.

She drove to the diner for some fresh donuts before heading to the apartment. And good thing she did, because just as she walked in the door, she was greeted by Henry's voice.

"Mom! You're awake already? Don't you always sleep in on Saturdays?"

He had been watching cartoons, and although he was really too old for them, he seemed to enjoy them all the same.

"Usually. But I woke up early today and decided to go out for donuts." She held up the bag.

"Donuts!" Henry quickly got up from his comfortable position on the couch and followed Emma into the kitchen. "I'm so hungry."

"Aren't you always these days?" She ruffled his hair and handed him the bag, going to the refrigerator for the milk. She poured Henry a glass and started the coffee pot.

Sitting down at the table and quickly devouring three donuts, Henry sighed, sat back, and accepted the milk from his mom. Never one to miss a beat, Henry looked at her oddly and remarked, "You look good, Mom."

She looked up from the article that had caught her eye on the counter, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've just been so stressed this week. And I thought that maybe it was because we had to move. But today you look good—rested or something." He continued watching her a moment more, and at her small smile, he drained his glass of milk and returned to the couch and his Saturday morning routine.

The coffee pot signaled it was done and Emma poured a cup, feeling for the first time in a week as though she could do without it. Smiling back at Henry, she walked upstairs to shower and change before dropping him at Neal's.

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**I have most of the rest of the story figured out, but if you have any ideas, I'm open to them. Review please?**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N I'm sorry for the short chapter, but it's one you've been waiting for—a little bit of Kat's back-story. I hope you all are picturing her with a Romanian or maybe Russian accent. Since I stink at writing accents, I just kept the words the way we would say them.**

**At Cynnx: I know, right! Emma should stay with her pirate, but she's Emma and she's reluctant. Don't worry-we have lots of CS moments coming up.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews! You guys are great.**

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Chapter 12

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The Istrati family lived on the outskirts of a port town that sported a bustling city center with cobblestone roads and stone buildings that eventually gave way to rolling hills and green prairie land. The Istrati's were farmers, who sold their wares at the weekly market, which served as their only regular source of income.

Katrina was the second daughter in the family, and learned to work hard at a very early age. Her best friend was a boy named Gustav from the neighboring farm that raised horses, and who her father secretly wished she'd marry—so he could have his dear daughter live near him, just like her sister. But Katrina had other plans.

Katrina was 20 years old; she had offers of marriage, including Gustav's, but she had never been in love, and she had seen enough of the dreary co-existence surrounding her to know that she wanted no part of a farmer's life. She was a bit of a wanderer, an untamed woman of the forest, climbing trees daydreaming and talking to the animals, and a wild woman of the sea, sitting on the wharf, watching the roughness of the waves and the brave ships that fought them.

One uneventful day perching on her favorite spot overlooking the water, she saw a ship come into port. As it turned, she saw its name clearly painted on the back, "Jewel of the Realm". Watching the beautiful boat, she imagined being a princess out to sea, the wife of a sea captain, out on the ocean for adventure to faraway realms. Eyes glazed over, she relaxed into her daydream, and then noting the time, ran away toward home.

She would never forget the first time she saw him. Katrina had been selling goods at the market in her family's stall that day; the dashing seaman slowly walking down the aisle, his impeccable uniform standing out among the drab colors of the vendors and buyers around him. Katrina noticed him quietly perusing the stalls, not really buying anything.

Stopping at her own stall, he looked around at some of the handmade items, picking up a basket she had weaved herself. She was so nervous, noting his fine-looking features, his broad shoulders, his perfectly white jacket. And then he looked up at her and her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were the most beautiful blue she'd ever seen. He smiled at her, saying in an accented tone, "The workmanship on this basket is flawless. Did you fashion it yourself?"

Stuttering, and then finding her voice, Katrina shyly answered, "Y…Yes, sir," casting her eyes downward and staring at his strong hands.

He smiled, a splendid brilliant smile with flashing teeth, "I'd like to purchase it for my cabin. What price do you desire?"

She told him the price, inflating it a bit since he looked like he could afford it.

He chuckled, "Oh, no. I don't think so. I can appreciate your hard work, but I'm not some tourist you can swindle," he challenged, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

Shyness gone at his haggling, and not wanting to lose the sale, she put her hands on her hips and haughtily lowered the price.

"Still not low enough, lass." His tongue flicked across his lower lip, and without intending it, her eyes followed the motion.

"Fine!" she nearly shouted. She told him the actual price and took his money, turning away from him in frustration.

He gently touched her shoulder, an amused expression on his face. "Don't be angry with me, lass."

Still flustered, she whirled around, and he smoothly took her hand and turned it, slowly placing the rest of the coins in her palm, his eyes never leaving her face. When she looked down, she realized he had given her the full amount she had originally quoted. She stood unmoving, in shock. "Um… thank you, sir." Her cheeks were flushed and there was nothing else she could say that wouldn't betray her pounding heart.

Katrina was smitten with the young officer.

She found out that he was captain of the same Jewel she had been admiring a couple of days before. The military ships never stayed in port long, usually a couple of days at most, just enough time to offload supplies and give the sailors a break from the monotony of sea life before going back out to patrol the waters.

He actively sought her out the next time he was in port. Again stopping at her stall, he picked up a jar of honey, turning it back and forth, watching the slow movement of the thick liquid and collecting himself before confronting the beautiful young red-head before him. When he looked up, their eyes met and electricity sparked, startling them both. He had remembered that she was striking, and he wanted to confirm it in case his memory was lacking. It wasn't. Recovering, he asked breathily, "How much for the honey, lass?" His words poured over her and melted in a puddle at her feet.

Her brother rolled his eyes and answered for her. Thank God he had come to her rescue, since she must look like an idiot staring at the seaman in front of her, who had gotten even more gorgeous in the couple of months he'd been gone, if that was possible. He pulled out the appropriate change and handed it to her, intentionally brushing her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a slight stiff bow and walked away, shaking his head to clear the fog that had gathered at the sight of the lovely lass.

It was another couple of months before they saw each other again. This time she was bringing a couple of pairs of her brothers' shoes to the cobbler. It was late in the day, and when she arrived, the shop had already closed. Her father was going to kill her for being so careless, likely lecturing her again on getting her head out of the clouds.

Sitting on a bench outside the shop, she put her face in her hands and began to cry. It was so unfair; she was so bored with her life. She wanted adventure, not lectures from her overprotective father.

So engrossed in her tears, she didn't notice the man who quietly sat down next to her.

Tears spent, she removed her hands from her face and looked up. "Oh!" She startled at the sight of the handsome captain's proximity. She could feel the heat radiating from his strong body.

"I didn't mean to alarm you, lass. Here." He handed her a white handkerchief with the initial J in one corner.

She took the handkerchief and used it to wipe the tears from her face. It smelled of soap and sea. "Thank you, sir."

"My pleasure. Now, tell me what has you so distraught." His eyes held concern in them, and he shifted his body toward her just a bit.

His kindness was her undoing. Looking over at him, she ranted, "It's everything. Just everything. My father thinks I'm wasting my life because I'd rather be anywhere than working on the farm, or I should choose a husband and have babies. My brothers and sisters are all the same—content with country life—but I'm not! I want… I want… more. There's more out there and I want to see it and breathe it and live it!" Her tears began to fall freely again, handkerchief forgotten, and she felt a little foolish for blurting everything out to him.

Seeing her distress, he placed a thumb on her cheek and wiped a few tears away. "I'm sorry you are in anguish, lass. But you're right. There is more out there, towns to see and people to meet, a whole world of possibility… Would you like me to show you?" He spoke quietly, his eyes imploring her to understand him. He liked her, and for as careless as it might seem to the rest of the world, he was offering her a place on his ship, and in his heart.

She gasped when she read the invitation in his eyes. Could it be that he had been dreaming of her as much as she had dreamt of him? "But… but… I don't even know your name." Her words came out in a heated rush, her heart hammering in her ears.

He stood up, took a bow and stated, "Captain Liam Jones, at your service, milady." He offered her his hand.

She accepted his hand, stood up, and answered, "And I'm…"

"Katrina Istrati," he cut in. "I took the liberty of asking a few questions about you the last time I was in port," he winked and didn't release her hand.

She threw her head back, laughing at the impossibility. Could this really be happening to her?

"Would you allow a gentleman to walk you home?"

At her assent, he placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, and enjoying the stars peeking out one by one, they talked about his adventures and her dreams the whole way home.

Arriving at her property all too soon, he bent over her hand, turned it over and kissed her palm, his lips tracing a line all the way to her wrist. Her eyes wide, she shivered at his touch. "We leave port early tomorrow morning, but I'll be back for you, love." His eyes held his promise.

Then the nightmare started.

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"I just don't understand why you didn't contact me directly if you were looking for a place?" Neal pleaded with Emma, after Henry had dropped his bags, hugged his father, and run to the kitchen for something to eat, the kid obviously going through a growth spurt.

They stood facing each other in the main part of the antique store, Emma's arms folded across her chest and Neal's hand on her arm.

"It's not that big of a deal, and I didn't want to bother you." Emma looked at the floor instead of Neal's face.

Neal had inherited all of his father's holdings after his disappearance, and was managing his affairs with quite a bit more leniency than his father ever had. He was a godsend to many of the people in the town who were struggling with the rough economy. Knowing himself what it was like to live on next to nothing, and now that he had all the extra wealth, he was more than willing to help out his neighbors.

"I'm just saying that I could find you a place, something perfect for you and Henry. I have to keep track of all the properties anyway, and that way you wouldn't have to deal with a realtor." Even though Emma had told Neal she didn't want a relationship with him, he kept holding out hope that if they spent some time together, her feelings might begin to grow again.

Resigned, Emma let her hands fall to her sides, "I know, and you're right of course. Thank you. Henry and I went to look at a couple of places, but nothing panned out."

Satisfied, Neal smiled and dropped his hand from her arm. "I'll check the books and call you next week with possible prospects." He was glad to have a reason to help her, a reason to do something for her after all she'd done for him, not to mention another reason besides Henry to stay in contact with her.

Emma smiled at him, knowing that he was getting his hopes up, but not sure how to stop it. "That sounds good." She smiled, and shouted to Henry, "See you later, kid!"

He ran out of the back and hugged his mom tightly. She kissed the top of his head. "I'll see you next week for hot chocolate at Granny's."

Grinning broadly, he shouted, "Cool!" and raced off.

Emma looked back at Neal one more time, noting the fondness in his expression directed toward her. She smiled tentatively, wishing he would let their past go, and then turned and walked out into the bright sunshine, squinting at its intensity.


	13. Chapter 13

**Here's a lovely CS chapter for you all-it gets a little racy, so let me know if I need to change the rating. ; )**

**To Nouqueret: Good guess about Liam! And yes, Killian does NOT remember Katrina, but there's a reason for that...****To clockadile: I can't imagine our pirate with anyone but Emma, so it had to be Liam! I'm a total CS shipper, all the way!**

**All you wonderful people who review-you make it worthwhile to keep on going! Love you guys! And love to Revenessa as always, for all her help!**

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Chapter 13

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Thwarted the night before, Katrina went to Emma's apartment earlier than usual, hoping she was there. Her solid heartbeat welcomed her, Emma Swan was at home, and Katrina flew to the roof of the shared loft; she had waited many years for this chance, and knowing it would all be over within a couple of weeks, her body hummed in anticipation at seeing all of it play out, finally.

Calming her breath and slowing her pulse like she had every night before entering Emma's room, she listened for Emma's position so she'd know exactly where to move. Emma mostly slept on her sides, and occasionally her stomach, thankfully not her back, or things might have been more difficult. Katrina entered the dark chamber quickly, found her bite marks and bit, this time taking more blood than usual. Savoring the pure taste, she stood up and tossed her head back in rapture, Emma's blood dripping from the corners of her mouth. Licking the wet droplets and smiling down at the sleeping woman, whose brow was beginning to furrow just as she was beginning to stir, Katrina flew out of the room, not even bothering to close the window behind her.

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Emma dashed through the forest again, dodging gaping holes and decaying logs, branches tearing at her face and arms, and trying to maintain her footing on the slippery ground. The beast was chasing her again—the giant wolf with the huge, gaping maw, intent on devouring her. She ran as fast as she could, her breath heaving and her thigh muscles burning from their effort. Just then she heard Killian's cry, and turning her head toward the sound, she tripped on a careless branch, sprawling on the forest floor. She looked back over her shoulder, and as if in slow motion, she watched the wolf's body hover in mid air above hers, its jaws aimed directly over her neck.

She shuddered awake, sitting straight up and pulling her knees to her chest, crying at the intensity of the nightmare.

Without another thought, she quickly got up, swooning and nearly collapsing from the rapid motion. As soon as the room stopped spinning, she gingerly put on her jeans under her nightgown, took her red jacket and her keys, and walked carefully out of her apartment, intending to drive straight to the only person in whose arms she ever felt safe.

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Killian was racing through the forest, his lass in front of him, running for her life. He could almost touch her dress that trailed ahead of him… if he could just get a little closer… he would shove her behind him and face her attacker for her. "Noooo," he screamed, as he was grabbed from behind by something of superior strength, its claws digging into his skin, tearing through his leather jacket. He fought the restraints with everything he had. Breathless, he was bound, hand and foot, never glimpsing his captor. Emma was still running, her breathing ragged from the chase, and then tripped. Killian watched in slow motion as the huge animal sprinted across the landscape and then landed on top of her. His blood froze in his veins, his heart refusing to beat, his mind screaming at him to close his eyes and escape the pain. Because his Emma, his Swan was being torn limb from limb by the monstrous beast.

Killian bolted upright in a cold sweat, sobbing and crying out, blanket falling to his waist.

Just then, the door to his cabin opened, and there stood Emma, weeping and shaking. She threw her jacket on the floor and hurried to his bed, not heeding the rush that made her head throb.

He opened his arms wide to receive her, neither one caring that it was the middle of the night, and both intent on wiping the horrible dream from their shared consciousness.

"You're here, love. You're here." He held her tightly to his chest, cradling the back of her head against his shoulder as his tears fell unheeded into her hair. They stayed like that for several minutes, clutching each other until their crying subsided.

She sank into him, allowing his body to support her weight until the nightmare passed, and fatigue washed over her. Only then, when she was able to breathe, and her heart was capable of beating again, a shift occurred, and like walking out of air conditioning into a sauna, she realized that she was sitting sideways in his lap, leaning against his naked chest, the hair tickling her nose. Her right hand was splayed across his chest, absentmindedly stroking it, her left wrapped around his neck. A rush of warmth flooded her body, overtaking the fatigue that sapped at the edges of her awareness.

His hand caressed her hair, his other wrist resting against her middle back, the feel of her against him a relief to his anxious soul. His mind began to work again as they settled down together, and he noticed the softness of the back of her thighs against his, the way her hand was tracing random circles on his chest, awakening long lost sensations on his skin that hadn't been caressed so tenderly in over three hundred years. Breathing in the scent of her hair, he began to place feather-light kisses along the top of her head.

Feeling the shift in his attention, Emma gently nudged her head upward, placing pressure against his neck to bring his mouth down toward hers.

The sparks started flying and they kissed each other with abandon, safe in each others' arms.

She slowly shifted her hips to straddle him, the thin blanket to flimsy to hide how much he desired her. She plunged her tongue into his mouth, tasting his rum-scented breath and drawing a low guttural moan out of him. Her left hand moved to his hair, combing through the thick waviness, while her right hand curled around a fistful of chest hair, desperate to hold onto something, to hold onto him. Still kissing him hungrily, she shifted her hips, desperate to be closer to him, causing his hand to move to her side, stilling her motion.

He used his wrist to stop her hand on his chest, breaking the kiss and placing his forehead on hers. He had very little self-control left, and she was quickly taking it from him every time she moved. "Gods, Emma, I can't take much more of this," he begged.

Moving her hand lower, beginning to trace the hairline that led beneath the blanket, she whispered, "Me neither," and kissed him again. Her head was aching a little, but her body overruled it, requiring nothing less than all of him.

As if it were the answer to prayer, he pulled the hem of her nightgown over her head, his eyes stilling on her glorious form, and immediately he began to place kisses down her neck, over her chest, her torso, everywhere he could reach, worshiping her body with just his lips, while her fingers played in his hair, rocking back and forth with the sensations he drew from her.

Replacing his mouth with his fingers, he held her close and trailed kisses and nips up to her shoulder and across to her neck, his scruff burning the soft skin as she tilted her head back to give him better access.

Her hands trailed lower again, settling on the outside of his hips. He was naked and she moaned at the fire that realization ignited within her.

He placed his finger over her mouth and looked into her eyes, dilated with desire, as if asking her if she really wanted to do this.

In answer, she let him go, stood up next to the bed, and unbuttoned the top of her jeans, slowly tugging her zipper down, revealing her flat stomach and the top of a pair of black lace panties. Killian's gaze followed the line of the zipper, and he licked his lips in response. She continued to pull her jeans down, allowing Killian an appreciative look at her long and shapely legs.

He reached out for her again, and when she moved close enough to him, he threw her down on the bed, covering her with his warm body. She could feel every muscle in his thighs, and her legs instinctively wrapped around them, pushing her hips into his.

He moaned into her neck, overwhelmed with desire and love for his Swan.

She cupped either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. She was surrounded by the golden glow, although she didn't seem to notice. It illuminated her blonde hair and made her green eyes dance, eyes that reminded him of the sea just before a storm.

"You make me feel so alive, Killian, so safe." She arched into him then, feeling her pressure build as he moved against her.

His eyes lit up with her admission and he smiled at her. "Let's lose these, shall we, love?" Placing his fingers on the outside edge of her panties, he pushed them down as far as his arm would reach before pushing them the rest of the way with his toes. He really was talented; she grinned at the thought. He gripped the back of her rear to pull her closer; she winced in pain. "Ow."

Panicked, he responded, "What's wrong, love."

"I think I must have gotten bitten by a spider or something. There's a spot that's been tender for a couple of days." Seeing his concerned look, she continued, "Don't worry, I'll be fine." To show him she meant what she said, she sat up, put her hands on his chest and smiled at him.

Glancing down her body and back up into her face, he beamed at her in all her naked glory. "You really are beautiful, Swan."

"I bet you say that to all the girls you manage to sweet-talk into this situation," she teased.

"I haven't heard any complaints," he retorted.

The thought of other women being in this position with him filled Emma with groundless jealousy, and she found herself wanting to claim him as her own, to brand him as he had branded her. She lowered her mouth to his, kissing him impatiently, her fingers tracing patterns on his torso before trailing further down his body.

Fitting together as if they had each been created with the other in mind, they began to move as one.

Completely new sensations filled Emma's being, building slowly, not unlike the electrical pop she had felt in his arms before.

Killian looked up at her in awe. Her eyes were closed and she was glowing brighter and brighter the closer she came to her peak.

They released together, and a loud splintering was heard at the same time they both cried out each other's names. Emma's arms had been thrown above her head, and Killian's hand and wrist were sitting on either side of her waist. She collapsed on top of him, exhausted.

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Invigorated but hardly sated by Emma's blood, Katrina decided to take another victim that night. Although she would normally wait a few days and just feed off Carl—and now Emma—she felt invincible. Her victim was a retired tanner who lived on the very edge of town. He grew his own food and rarely left his house, preferring instead to fill his time reading books and doing odd jobs around the house. He was pretty close to self-sustainable, and of course a loner, so he made the perfect prey.

Arriving at his house past midnight, Katrina quietly let herself in through the unlocked patio door, her dark red dress trailing behind her as she creeped through the dark rooms. She silently moved to his bedroom, listening to the sound of his beating heart echoing in her sensitive ears. Licking the air with her tongue, she tasted broth, presumably from his supper, and she wondered if he would have chosen it if he had known it was to be his last meal. The corners of her mouth turned up in mirth at the deliciousness of the entire situation. Waiting so long between kills was excruciating, although a necessary evil for self-preservation, and Katrina's instinct was particularly strong.

She stealthily bent down over the sleeping man and caressed his face. He woke with a start, but she crooned so beautifully that he settled down quickly, thinking she was a figment of his imagination. Continuing her enchanting and eerie song, she traced her mouth where her fingers had been, singing and inhaling his freshly showered scent. She moved to his neck and bit, eliciting a startled moan from him as the powerful draw from her teeth drained him before he could even think to fight back.

Her bloodlust momentarily sated, Katrina gathered the old man in her arms, walked out of the patio door, and leapt into the air. She was so focused on getting him to the morgue that she didn't even realize she left the door open.

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Moving his hand to her back, Killian kissed Emma's hair and began to trace slow circles across her body, savoring the feel of her rapid but decelerating heartbeat against his chest.

"Wow," she groaned. "That was different." Her head protested her recent activities.

Just then, Killian stopped his hand motion and seemed to go completely still.

Alarmed by his silence and stillness, Emma asked, "What is it?"

She lightly moved off to his side and into the crook of his shoulder, resting her head against him. His arm tightened around her in response, and he looked over at her with an incredulous expression.

"Emma, love, if this is going to happen every time we're together, perhaps we could stay at your place?"

A little annoyed, she pressed, "What is it?"

He looked back at the ceiling, and she followed his gaze to a gaping hole about the size of a child's rubber kickball. She looked back over at him, confused.

He inclined his head toward her. "Don't look at me, you just released a fireball that would make Regina proud."

"A fireball? What are you talking about?"

He pointed to the ceiling with his wrist. "That, love."

"I didn't do that. Wait, do you think someone's trying to damage the Jolly Roger?"

He chuckled. "Well, I think if we were under attack, the enemy would have taken another shot by now. But in this case, you've only climaxed once, so I imagine that's why we only have one gaping cavity."

"You can't be serious."

"I certainly am, lass, although I wish I wasn't. I just finished replacing those boards and sanding that portion of the deck," he stated matter of factly, and if his right hand would have been free, he would have stroked his chin in thoughtfulness.

"Well, it's your fault then," she blamed sleepily.

"My fault? I don't have magic, you do."

"Well then, you shouldn't be so good in bed," she pouted, and tried to punch his shoulder, although her hand slipped and she missed.

He caught her fist in midair, and turned his body toward hers, hauling her up to his chest. He kissed her then and began stroking her body all over again, desire building inside of him as though he hadn't just had his release.

Killian had waited a long time to make his Swan his, fireballs be damned.

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Emma awoke from a dead sleep, arm thrown across Killian's chest as sunlight happily streamed through the window and the hole in the ceiling above the bed. Glancing at the perfectly round opening, her thoughts turned to the night before and she smiled in lazy satisfaction. Killian was next to her, arm behind his head, looking up at the bright blue sky through his new sunroof. Feeling her stir, he turned his face toward hers and smiled, "Good afternoon, sleepyhead."

She smiled back, realizing that he always seemed to know what time it was just by the angle and intensity of the light. "Good afternoon… I guess we bypassed morning."

"By a few hours, at least." He kissed the top of her head as she lazily snuggled closer.

"Can I tell you something, Killian?" At his nod, she continued, "Last night I had the dream again. The wolf, the forest, it was chasing me and I woke up just as it…"

"I know. I know. I had the same dream." He idly stroked her back, holding her close.

Pulling back a little, and looking him in the face, consternation etched into her features, she asked, "You did? The same one as before?"

"Yes, a little different, but essentially the same." He frowned deeply and his brows furrowed together at the memory.

"What do you think all of this is about? I mean, I've never had the same dream as anyone else, as far as I know." She had her elbows on his chest, her chin supported in her hands, watching him.

He looked down at her. "I honestly don't know. I imagine it has something to do with magic, and we both know what you're capable of." He glanced back at the ceiling before looking back at her, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.

"Wild, isn't it?" She put her cheek on her hands, resting her head down again. She felt relaxed and sleepy, completely content in the moment.

"I've seen much, lass, but nothing compares to what I've experienced with you." He spoke hoarsely, then tugged her toward him so he could plant a gentle kiss on her lips.

She kissed him back, cupped his face, and sluggishly sighed, "I love you, you know."

His eyes brightened in intensity, and he closed his eyes as her words washed over him. Her admission filled every corner of his being with hope. Schooling his thoughts and allowing mischief to surface, he opened his eyes and fixed his face with a self-satisfied grin, raised his brows and said, "I suspected as much."

She punched him then, although it lacked energy, and he began tickling her, flipping her on her back quickly and covering her with his body.

The sudden change in position caused Emma to black out.


	14. Chapter 14

**Here's the rest of Kat's backstory...**

**As always, thanks to you guys who consistently leave a review.  
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Chapter 14

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Katrina Istrati left Liam Jones that night lighthearted and free for the first time since she'd been a young girl. The pressure from her family's expectations had burdened her—she hated making them unhappy—but she refused to give up her happiness to appease their visions of her prospects. Captain Jones would return for her in another couple of months, and she planned to use that time to repair some of her dresses, and mentally catalog those items she would like to take with her on their journey. She planned on telling no one, not even Gustav. She would leave a note before she sailed away, but otherwise, she didn't want anyone trying to talk her out of it.

About month after Liam had been gone, the townspeople started to complain of animals missing or stolen, only to find those animals a few days later, hidden, but dead, always dead. Not long after, there was a rumor circulating about people disappearing too; to be later discovered the same way as the animals. Most of those in the country heard the rumors but disregarded them for the most part, as all kinds of evils and crimes could be found in a port town. It was to be expected.

One fine Saturday, she and her brother pushed their cart full of supplies into town to set up for the weekly market. They found their stall and began the long process of unloading. Her friend Nicolla ran up to their table.

"Katrina! Have you heard that Mr. Eder was found dead this morning?" Her excitable blonde friend practically vibrated with tension.

Mr. Eder was the kind man who lived on the edge of town, who always offered Katrina a flower from his garden when she passed by his house. "Mr. Eder? How did he die? He seemed to be in good health last time I saw him."

Just then her brother came to the front of the stall, sliding his appreciative gaze over her cute friend. "What are you on about?" he teased and nodded toward her.

Nicolla blushed prettily and continued in a rush, "That's just it. He wasn't sick at all. He was found with two marks on his neck and people are wondering if we have a plague on our hands."

"A Plague?" Katrina's eyes widened in disbelief. Now that was bad. Plagues could wipe out the entire population of a close-knit town like theirs.

"I know. It's crazy, isn't it?" Nicolla turned her head away and recognized someone else she knew, bounding off to share her gossip.

Katrina worriedly looked back at her younger brother, wondering what that would mean for her family and their livelihood.

A few days later, a plague was declared. No one knew how it spread or its source, but people were very afraid. They mostly stayed indoors, only going out for necessary supplies, which were hard to come by when many of the shop owners refused to open their stores. The weekly market was cancelled and the Istrati family lived off the surplus of their land. They could survive for quite awhile through rationing, and hoped that the storm would pass before they ran out of money for necessary household supplies.

As the month went on, and victims were revealed even among the country dwellers, Mr. Istrati decided that they needed an alternative plan. Gathering the family together, he told them his concerns and asked if anyone opposed leaving their beloved home to flee from the dreadful sickness that claimed everyone in its path.

Katrina knew then that her happiness did not trump her family's safety, so she told her father about the handsome sea Captain who promised to whisk her away the next time he was in port.

"You foolish, girl! How do you know he will live up to his promise? How do you even know anything about him?" Her father had the heated tone of a man who is worried about the safety of his dearest family.

"But just think, Father, if he comes, then we can get passage on his ship and sail away from here. The journey would be easier by boat than by land, and think of Mama and the babies." Katrina's pleading tone begged him to think about what she was saying.

"And just what if a sea Captain doesn't want a family of twelve bumbling under his feet?"

"He's not like that, Father, and I know he'll help us. He has a good heart," she appealed.

Her earnest expression somewhat allayed his fears, and though he was still frustrated, he stopped his tirade and gazed at his intelligent, though sometimes frustrating, daughter. She was right, even though he didn't want to admit it. A journey over sea was infinitely easier than one over land. Pursing his lips and pacing the floor, he began to think about what they would need for the trip. And if it happened that the Captain turned them away, he could still make the journey overland, only needing to adjust a few of his supplies if it came to that.

The Istrati's stayed isolated from everyone they knew, planning only to go into town to meet the Jewel of the Realm as soon as she docked.

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Katrina paced the wharf every day watching for the Jewel, remembering every line of the majestic ship. When she finally recognized the white sails from afar off, she raced home to inform her father.

Together, they quickly hiked back to town to meet the young Captain.

Arriving at the dock, Katrina saw Liam talking with one of the harbor officials after he had disembarked. Catching his eye, she watched his eyes widen in acknowledgment, and smiling gravely, he waved her over. Her father followed.

The harbor official turned away just as Liam turned to Katrina and took her hand, placing a kiss on the top of it. Her father raised his brows in discomfort and glared at the handsome young man who was obviously interested in his daughter.

"Captain Jones, allow me to present my father, Mr. Istrati."

Liam looked surprised, but recovered nicely and bowed, "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Her father nodded and then began, "I'll get right to the point. I'm sure you've been informed of the plague that has settled over this town. I'm here to ask if my family might secure passage on your boat to wherever you are headed next." He finished with an abrupt nod.

Liam smiled gently and commented, "I cannot enter the town, nor can any of my sailors. If you can prove to me that no member of your family has been infected, then I will be happy to escort you to our next destination. We will offload tonight and set sail first thing tomorrow morning."

"Deal." Her father shook Liam's hand and relaxed for the first time.

He turned to walk away, leaving Katrina staring at her young officer. Discomfited and keeping her eyes downcast, she whispered, "Thank you, Liam."

The sound of his name in her thick accent warmed him to the core, and he drew her chin up with his finger. "I'll see you tomorrow, lass."

His eyes held such assurance that she and her family would be kept safe from the plague tearing through their town. Her heartbeat quickened at the intensity of his blue gaze and she leaned forward, ready to let him kiss her.

"Katrina!" Her father shouted her name, breaking the tender moment with her love.

Liam's eyes held amusement at her father, and anticipation of the long journey ahead; the cramped quarters would guarantee the opportunity to see her every day.

She smiled up at him sheepishly, and then whirled around to race back to her father's side, Liam's eyes never leaving her retreating form.

When she and her father arrived home, everyone rushed around with last minute packing, adding to the bags and crates of food and clothing that already sat in the entryway.

Katrina went to sleep exhausted but happy, ready to start the first real adventure of her life.

A few hours later, she awoke to a persistent tapping outside her window. She groggily peered through the opening to reveal Gustav devilishly smiling on the other side. "Come out, Katrina, it's a fine night."

"Gustav, it's the middle of the night, and I'm exhausted from the day. Go home," she rebuked lightly. His gaze intensified at the movement of her mouth and he bit his lip in response.

"Please, Katrina, I hear your family is leaving tomorrow and I'll miss you terribly," he pleaded.

"How did you know? We were trying to keep it quiet." She looked at him with a confused expression.

"There is much I know, that you do not." He accentuated each syllable.

Katrina thought he was acting rather strangely. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, other than my best friend is leaving and won't even give me a goodbye hug." His eyes implored her to surrender to his charms.

"Oh, alright!" she huffed, aggravated by the timing of it all.

She carefully climbed out of the opening. He instantly pulled her into a rough embrace. "Ow, Gustav, you're hurting me. Let go!"

He relaxed his arms just a little, and whispered sensually in her ear, "I can't bear to live without you, and I'll not let you live without me. We were supposed to be married, Katrina. You belong with me, and I intend to keep you all the days of my life." With that, he bit into her neck right at the pulse point.

"Gustav! Ouch!" Katrina briefly struggled and then went limp as she felt the powerful draw on her neck.

Just then, her brother flew out of his bedroom window straight toward Gustav's shoulder, knocking his sister loose. She fell to the ground, holding her head and moaning.

Looking around himself in anguish, Gustav quickly fled.

Katrina took her brother's hand, and using him for support, let him lead her back to bed where she slept until morning.

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The next day, her entire family reported to the Jewel with all their containers and bags. Standing on the pier next to the ship, Liam greeted her father and then introduced his brother, Lieutenant Killian Jones. Katrina noted he had the same clear blue gaze as his brother, eyes that detected every detail. After greeting her family, the lieutenant trained his stare back on her, casting his head a little to the side, eyes falling to her collar. Katrina shyly smiled, sure that Liam must have spoken to his brother about her.

With a cursory nod in the direction of her family, Killian Jones pulled his brother aside and out of earshot. They began arguing—heated by the looks of it. Liam was shaking his head back and forth, anguish in his features. After a time, he walked back over to them, all waiting patiently, and pulled Katrina forward, turning her to the side to look at her neck. Sure enough, two small puncture wounds were clearly visible beneath her collar.

Dropping her hand and stepping back from them all, his face like a stone mask, he addressed her father, "I'm sorry, sir. But it appears your daughter has been infected, and I cannot jeopardize my crew for the sake of your family." He looked like his heart was breaking.

Lieutenant Jones was standing off to the side, an expression that spoke to a mixture of relief and sorrow for his brother's loss.

Liam turned away and walked back up the gangplank to his ship. She never saw his face again.

Dejected and depressed, Katrina staggered behind her family as they made the trip back home. She felt weak, faint and heartbroken, and as soon as they arrived at the farm, she fell into her bed.

She could vaguely hear her father bustling around, packing additional items for their journey overland, her brothers and sisters helping. And then all was blackness.

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Sometime in the middle of the night, she felt her head being gently lifted upright, and she opened her eyes to see Gustav standing over her again, a strange gleam in his eyes. Shutting her eyes again, not wanting to fight the blackness tugging at her consciousness, she felt a warm liquid trickling down her throat. It tasted salty and metallic, and she didn't recognize it, but it wasn't offensive either. Swallowing hungrily until the liquid stopped going into her mouth, she blacked out again.

Katrina awoke the following evening in the barn, hay surrounding her. She fought her way to the top of the fluff, the long strands tickling her bare arms. Freeing herself from the clingy grass, she ran outside to find her family. The enchanting night distracted her from her purpose, and she whirled around and around, dancing under stars that twinkled so clearly and the crisp air that whispered against the hairs on her face.

Running to the house, to share the vision of the night with her family, she noticed the darkness within. Fearing her family might have left without her, she rushed to the front door, throwing it open in haste.

The scene before her filled her with revulsion. Every member of her family was lying dead, strewn about the room carelessly, as if they were rag-dolls in the hand of a giant. Falling to her knees and gasping for breath, Katrina howled for the loss of her family.

When she removed her hands from her eyes, she noticed the blood stains on her own dress. And as if the blood cried out to her with audible words, she was assailed by images of the night before when she herself had brutally taken the lives of each of her family members.

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Furious at what he had done to her, Katrina sought out Gustav, finding him skulking around the barn, having heard her feral moans.

"Gustav, you beast! What have you done?" Her red hair flew about her face, her teeth were perfectly white and flashing, her features pointed and enhanced.

Gustav's breath caught in his throat at his beautiful counterpart. She was always pretty, but now she was positively magnificent. He lowered his voice and spoke slowly. "I'm keeping you by my side. Don't you see, Katrina, we can be together for always." He ran his tongue over his perfect teeth, his only desire to run his hands over her delicious body.

Furious at his presumption, she pushed him with all her might. He flew back twenty feet, crashing into the wall of the barn, and collapsing at its base. She looked down at her hands in shock, and then back over to where he had landed.

Unhurriedly, he stood up, and almost undetectably fast, he hurtled into her with all his might. They flew back together, his body covering hers with his own, her head painfully cracking on a rock as they hit the ground. She rapidly twisted to the side and kicked him with everything she could muster.

He deflected her kick and pressed his forearm against her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter until she began to gasp for breath. "Are you ready to stop?" His eyes glowed with amusement at her wild thrashings.

"Yes," she hissed. He crawled back from her, giving her a wide berth. Standing up, and wrapping her hand around her throat, she stared at him with contempt, watching him like a wary cat. "Tell me what we are and what we can do."

"We're called creatures of the night and we live forever."

Her eyebrows raised at his comment, silently requesting further information.

"We feed on blood, human or animal, it makes no difference. That blood gives us strength and agility, power and intelligence. We can move quicker than anything and we can fly."

As if to test his information, Katrina shot up into the air—not understanding how she could do it, and not really caring. Floating back down to the soft grass, she looked back over at Gustav, noticing how his thin and scrawny body had transformed into a muscular and fit physique. The spots on his face were gone; his skin practically glowed and his eyes gleamed. For the first time in her life, Katrina felt an attraction to Gustav.

She watched his eyes take in her form, her face, and she imagined that she looked as different as he did.

Suddenly she felt a thirst overtake her, its power crushing all other thoughts. Her eyes drifted to his neck and she understood hunger as though she'd never eaten a meal in her life.

Noting the direction of her eyes, Gustav taunted, "No, no, Katrina, not me, dearest. Let me take you to a place where you can feed."

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He took her to a tavern on the outskirts of the town. All the merry people inside, forgetting their woes and their losses in a swig of hard liquor or a tankard of ale—the life behind that glass made her mouth water.

They hid around a corner and waited for a sodden drunk to stumble out. Eventually one did. Gustav grabbed the man by the collar, who fought only mildly, and presented him to Katrina the way you would present a precious gift. She fell on his neck, puncturing his pulse point with her teeth, tearing his skin in her appetite and haste. His blood was hot, thick and strong-tasting. It coated the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat, and when he was drained, she dropped him to the ground, turned and walked away.

Partly disgusted with herself, and partly enthralled, Katrina embraced what she had become. She learned about sleeping safely out of the sun—usually coffins or underground crypts. Being undead herself, she liked to spend her time with the dead, feeling a strange camaraderie with the corpses.

She had been alive for over three hundred years. She had been hunted, a number of times barely escaping her own prey. She had lived in groups and alone, finally preferring alone, because she deemed it safer. People noticed when their fellows started going missing, and two of her kind eat twice as much as only one.

From that day, Katrina never was the carefree girl who dreamed of the love of a sea Captain. She discarded her old life almost immediately, and vowed that if she should ever come across Lieutenant Killian Jones, she would make him pay for convincing his brother to deny their passage and leaving her family in that cursed coastal town.

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**Tell me what you think! Was this what you expected?**

**And I'm thinking of changing the title of this story. Any suggestions?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks, everyone! and thanks especially to Revenessa who edited this chapter while suffering from the flu. You're awesome, girl!**

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Chapter 15

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Concentrating on a slow and steady beeping, Emma allowed the sound to gently tug her to consciousness, until she was fully awake, opening her eyes to the pungent smell of disinfectant. She found herself in a hospital room, the night sky peeking through the half-closed blinds. She glanced around the room to see Killian relaxed in a chair, staring out the window at the street lamps whose light partially illuminated her darkened room.

"Killian." Her voice sounded scratchy as if she hadn't spoken in awhile. She weakly lifted a hand as if in greeting, before letting it fall back to the blanket.

Immediately turning his head at the sound of her voice, he rose from his chair in one fluid motion, coming to sit next to her on the mattress. Placing a hand on her cheek, he roughly said, "Emma, love, how are you feeling?"

She noticed the distress in his eyes, bluer than ever in the dim light, the dark rings encircling them. "I feel a little tired, maybe, but ok I guess. What happened?" The last thing she remembered was leaning over Killian's chest, admitting that she loved him, and watching as her words were reflected back to her from his eyes. She flushed in reminiscence.

Killian watched her face, noticing the pretty blush that colored her features, and for the first time in the past day she didn't look outright pale. "You fainted. I brought you here and they couldn't revive you right away. After a few tests, Dr. Whale told us you had severe anemia and ordered two pints of blood. You've been asleep since yesterday." He caressed her cheek and then placed her hand in his, holding onto her as if afraid to let her go.

"Where's my family?" Knowing her parents, they wouldn't be far.

"Mary Margaret and David went to get something to eat, but they'll be back soon I imagine." Her parents and he had been staying with Emma in shifts for the past twenty-four hours, ensuring she was never alone.

"Do they know what caused the anemia?"

"Dr. Whale suspects some kind of internal bleeding, but wanted you awake before doing anymore tests to find the source."

Emma nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her head back into her pillow. She still felt weak, but definitely clearer-headed than she had the past few days.

They heard a tentative knock at the door, and it slowly pushed open. Emma let her eyes follow the sound, taking in her mother's ragged appearance and her father's solemn face.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret ran over to the bed, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. "How are you feeling?"

David followed close behind, standing over his wife and daughter, one hand on each of them.  
"It's good to see you awake, Emma."

Emma looked over at Killian, who had removed himself from the edge of the bed when he saw Mary Margaret's face, walking back over to the chair he had been in earlier. She instantly felt the loss of his comforting presence. Focusing on her parents, Emma answered, "I'm good I think, still a little tired."

Mary Margaret nodded, "Dr. Whale thought you might be. He wants you to stay overnight and then run some tests in the morning." Smiling gently, she continued, "I'm so glad you're awake, Emma. We were really worried about you." She glanced up at David with teary eyes and placed her hand in his, benefiting from her husband's stable support.

Emma smiled in response, closing her eyes again, and settling back into her pillow.

Allowing David a moment with their daughter, Mary Margaret got up from the bed, and walked over to Killian. After a short discussion, they determined that he would be the one to stay the night, and kissing Emma goodbye, promising she'd see her tomorrow, she quietly left the room with David.

Emma fell back to sleep almost immediately, as if she hadn't already been sleeping for an entire day, feeling safe under the unfaltering and endless blue gaze of her pirate.

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Katrina sat at her perfect desk in her perfect office, ready to slip out again to drink from Emma Swan. She had been observing Emma while she spent the nights in the hospital, presumably because she needed a blood transfusion since Katrina's last meal had been rather larger than usual. Last night she had overheard a conversation saying Emma would be discharged in the morning, so she was sure Emma was back home. Katrina's thirst for the magical blood grew every time she tasted the delicacy, and she had to exercise strict self-control to keep from draining Emma every time her teeth sank into Emma's soft skin.

Since it had been a couple of days since her last feeding, and Katrina was feeling a bit peckish, she decided that tonight was a good night to visit the blonde. She would slip out undetected and be back before Carl even knew she had gone.

Katrina flew quickly to Emma's apartment, hovered outside, calmly opened the window, and climbed into the bedroom. Inhaling the magical woman's clean scent mingled with vanilla, she lifted Emma's blanket very slowly, again finding the bite marks and quickly drinking from the sleeping woman. Staggering a little, she replaced the blanket, and repeating her earlier movements, she stepped out of the window, carefully closing it behind her so she left no trace of her presence.

Suddenly, Katrina grasped her stomach as a sharp pain shot through her. The acrid taste in her mouth spoke of something other than what she had come to expect as Emma. And almost as quickly as the pain assailed her, it was gone, replaced by a low grade nausea. Mildly concerned, Katrina made her way back to the morgue before she was missed, thinking that maybe Emma had been given some kind of heavy medication that still coursed through her blood.

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Emma leaned back in her desk chair at the station, having been released from the hospital the day before and feeling better than she had in a week. Dr. Whale's tests had come back inconclusive. He couldn't find the source of blood loss, and hoped her body would heal on its own. With no reason to keep her, he sent her home with instructions to call if she should feel faint in the slightest.

Killian hadn't really left her side, even though Mary Margaret and David had offered to keep vigil so that he could go back to his ship for some rest. He had convinced them that he wouldn't sleep anymore in his own bed than he would in the uncomfortable chair, so he might as well stay. Emma had smiled at his earnestness. Mary Margaret and David had shared a pointed look and left without an argument.

The phone rang, breaking Emma's train of thought. It was Drierson, announcing that David's sword was finished and she could come by anytime to pick it up.

When David appeared at the station for his shift, Emma slipped out to Granny's for lunch with a sudden craving for beef. The springtime sunshine incredibly bright, Emma had to blink her eyes several times before she could open them, and then finally shading her eyes against the glare, she walked over to the diner, making a mental note to pick up some sunglasses after lunch.

"Hey Ruby," Emma greeted as she walked in the door.

Ruby beamed at her, leaning over the counter where Emma sat down. She abruptly stood back up, twitching her nose at the smell of blood that filled the air. She looked at Emma, keenly aware that it was coming from her, but not sure why. Not commenting on it, she asked, "So I heard you were in the hospital. Everything ok now?"

Emma would always be amazed at how quickly news traveled in the small town. "Yeah, everything's fine. Can I get a cheeseburger for here?"

"Sure." Ruby placed the order and walked back over to Emma. "So tell me about you and Hook."

Emma startled at the blunt question, shaking her head at Ruby's nosiness. Not really knowing what to say, she warily settled on, "I guess we're seeing each other."

Ruby smiled knowingly, "I bet you're doing more than just 'seeing'. That man makes my blood run hot." She puckered her lips, letting her eyes go out of focus.

Without thinking, Emma punched her arm, hard enough to knock Ruby sideways, not liking the thought of the gorgeous red head fantasizing about her man. The sensation that she even had a man to call her own was a strange one, and it dawned on her slowly, bringing a soft smile to her lips.

Ruby stood back up, smirked, and went to attend the other customers.

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"Hey, kid, Drierson called. The sword's ready." Emma walked with Henry toward her car. She watched for his reaction, knowing he would be elated.

"That's great! I can't wait to give it to David. He's gonna be so surprised." Henry began to skip a little and Emma had to trot to keep up.

His joy infectious, Emma smiled in response. "Do you mind if Killian comes along?"

Henry stopped his quick motion and looked up at his mom thoughtfully. "Sure. I like Captain Hook." Then getting increasingly more excited, he said, "Maybe he could give us his opinion about the sword. Pirates surely know a lot about swords!" He fleetingly wondered why his mom was asking him, but he quickly moved back to daydreams about David's face when he saw his present.

Arriving at the Jolly Roger, Emma stepped over the rail looking for Killian. She found him below deck, sanding a spot on the wall. "Hey, Hook! Feel like getting out for a bit?"

Pleasantly surprised at her appearance, he dropped his sandpaper to the floor, sauntered over to her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her to him for a kiss. She tasted of his favorite lunch.

She smiled into his mouth, "I guess that's a yes."

"Aye." He nipped her mouth again and then let her go, following her above deck. "What was the question again, love?" he smiled sheepishly.

Emma rolled her eyes and elbowed him. "Come on pirate."

He just grinned, settling himself in the front seat of the car, and looked behind him to see Henry in the back seat. "Greetings, young fellow."

"Hello, Hook. What have you been doing all this time since we've been back from Neverland? I haven't seen you much." Henry liked Hook, had thought he was kind of cool with his black leather and metal appendage. He had already heard the stories about Neverland, and hoped to ask Hook more questions about his ship and his pirate past.

"Repairs. The Jolly took quite a hit from her last adventure." Killian turned his head toward Emma, with a wicked smile on his face. "Isn't that right, love?"

She flushed, focusing her eyes on the road ahead, willing him to keep quiet about the other night and praying that Henry wouldn't notice anything unusual about his comment.

Missing the innuendo completely, Henry continued, "What kind of hit? What do you have to do to fix it?"

Killian began answering every one of Henry's nonstop questions with an amused tone. He enjoyed sharing the detailed workings of his beloved ship with anyone who would listen, and Henry was an apt pupil.

Emma chuckled to herself, thinking that Killian would get a taste of his own medicine. Killian had no concept of personal space, and Henry had no concept of privacy. But as far as she could see, the pirate was pretty happy to share any and all details with her kid.

Stopping in front of the steel factory, Henry bounded out of the car, raced to the door and pulled it open. Killian and Emma slowly followed, Killian reaching for her hand as soon as he was close enough to take it. Emma looked down at her hand clasped in his, enjoying how right it felt.

Once inside, Drierson hurried over to the small group, wiping his hands on his apron and picking up the sword from the work bench. Talking animatedly, he presented the sword to Henry, who accepted it with a look of awe on his face.

"Wow. It's really wonderful." He turned it this way and that, looked down the length of it, studied his reflection in the blade and measured the fit of the handle in his own hand.

Emma and Killian looked at each other with a grin at the old man's and boy's excitement.

Handing the sword to his mom, Emma dropped Killian's hand and took it, marveling at how heavy it seemed to feel and wondering how she had ever managed to fight with one in all of her adventures since coming to Storybrooke.

Killian took it next, examining it much the same way Henry had, checking the balance and weight, and swinging the blade to test air resistance. He remarked to the exuberant blacksmith, "You really know your trade, mate. Blasted good work. Well done."

Drierson hadn't stopped talking while they examined the sword, but at Killian's words, he opened and closed his mouth several times, no sound coming out, and then beamed in response, recognizing the full weight of the complement he had received. He could tell the man before him knew a thing or two about sword play. Sputtering, he said, "Thank you, sir."

Emma paid Drierson, thanking him again for his beautiful workmanship and promising that she'd let him know what the prince thought of his new weapon.

Back in the car, Henry asked, "Mom, can we give it to him tonight? I can ask if I can stay over for dinner tonight and we could present it to him."

"I thought it was supposed to be a birthday present."

"It is, but it's just so cool, I don't know how he can go another day without it!" Henry made the face that usually insured his mother's acquiescence.

"Let me talk to Mary Margaret and I'll let you know. You can stay for dinner regardless of her decision."

Satisfied, Henry turned back to Killian and picked up the vein of the conversation they were having before their stop.

Emma listened with half an ear to her two favorite men talking back and forth with enthusiasm in their voices, her mouth watering at the thought of asking Mary Margaret to prepare her a juicy steak for supper.

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**Review?**


	16. Chapter 16

**Beta read by Revenessa, who's just awesome  
**

**Thanks, everyone! You're all so encouraging—here's a nice, long chapter for you—lots of CS moments!**

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Chapter 16

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Carl awoke that afternoon, feeling almost like his old self before he had become involved with his boss. She was a monster like he was, and that thought had comforted him many a night when he found himself craving her touch on his skin. He had fantasized about her for as long as he could remember, and the day the curse broke, when she had finally caressed him with her mouth, he nearly burst with the flare of desire that had consumed him. That same need bloomed every time she touched him, better than the rush he felt from his ministrations on the animals he captured in his traps. He had achingly followed her ever since, doing anything she bid no matter how horrible it was.

But that afternoon, Carl felt almost normal. That day he decided to go into town and stalk another red head who had caught his attention before the curse had broken.

He had first seen Ruby leaving the Rabbit Hole one night with her arm draped around a tall, handsome blonde man. They had been laughing and supporting one another as they stumbled down the sidewalk. Carl had just been about to go in, a lonely night for a lonely man, when she and her acquaintance had walked out. Staring at her long limbs exposed by her skimpy clothing, bright wavy hair, and striking features, his blood began pulsing in his veins, instinctively knowing she was as wild as his trapped animals. Pulling his lips back over his teeth and sneering at the departing couple, he entered the bar, had one shot of whisky, and left for home, visualizing what he would do to her if he could capture her one day.

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The week unfolded relatively slowly at the station, and good thing, because Emma didn't quite feel whole. The fatigue had returned along with some light-headedness. Her nightmare occurred less frequently, and subsequently Killian's too, so she was getting a bit more sleep, but it seemed the anemia hadn't quite resolved itself. She didn't want anyone to fuss but resolved to go see Dr. Whale on Monday if her fatigue continued.

The family had decided to celebrate David's birthday on Saturday, hosting an evening party at the loft and inviting their close friends. With all that had been happening, Mary Margaret decided to hire Granny's to cater the party so she and Emma would have less work and clean-up. Mary Margaret was almost as excited as Henry to see David's face when he received his gift.

Emma used her extra time to order food for the party and invite the prince's closest friends, looking forward to the social occasion herself.

Writing down a couple of ideas for decorations, the phone rang. "Storybrooke Sheriff's Office, Emma Swan speaking."

Neal's voice answered happily, "Hey, Em, I found a few places for you and Henry to check out. Will you have some time soon?"

"Not until next week—which will be better for us anyway since Henry will be staying with me. What did you find?"

"I have a couple of places in the middle of town, one is a duplex and the other is an apartment. And I found a couple more a little further away, but bigger. It'll just depend on what you guys like."

He sounded so enthusiastic, and since she didn't know how to show her gratitude without leading him on, she kept it simple. "Thank you, Neal, you really didn't have to do this."

"No problem. You guys are important to me. And I want to know you'll be safe." His earnest voice made her heart sink. It was clear in his tone that he still hoped she would change her mind about him.

She was silent several seconds. "Well, thanks. Hey, we're throwing a birthday party for David this weekend and would like for you to come. It's at the loft on Saturday evening."

His gratitude apparent, Neal beamed, "Wow, that's great Em. I'll see you guys Saturday night, then. Thanks for the invite."

She hung up the phone and swiveled back and forth in her chair, pen tapping on her desk, lost in thought. She was going to have to tell Neal exactly how things stood between them, even though that was a conversation she'd rather avoid. Maybe she could pull him aside at the party.

Letting her mind wander past Neal to Killian, she smiled, a faraway look on her face. Inhaling deeply, her body filled with desire initiating in her core and radiating outward. She was sitting in his lap, his rock solid body underneath her, her rear pressed into his hips, her eyes closed as the sensations flooded her. In order to keep her balance, she opened her legs and placed her hands on the tops of his muscular thighs, rubbing his warm skin back and forth, back and forth, in rhythm with her beating heart. His hand found the underside of her breast and his wrist wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly against him. He was kissing her naked back, his teeth biting into her shoulder, moaning against her soft skin, "Gods, Emma." His voice was clear in her ears, on her skin, his chest trembling with his oath. He filled her completely, causing her to instantly flush, snap her head back, and expose her throat. His hand traced around to the top of her neck, and she dipped her mouth down to capture one of his fingers and suck it sharply into her mouth. He moaned in response and she moved against him, just as the phone rang and broke her reverie.

Ignoring the phone and taking several deep breaths until her pulse slowed, she decided to have a conversation with him wondering if he was experiencing her waking dreams just like he seemed to share her nightmares.

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Killian spent the day alone, working on his ship. The bright sunshine made it perfect for woodworking, and he was glad to keep his hand and hook busy. He needed something to do. If it were up to him, he'd spend every minute with Emma, never tiring of her company or the way he felt so complete with her. He loved her, everything about her. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way her hair fell down her back, the way she viewed the world, the way she looked at Henry in adoration—and now him too.

He had stopped for just a minute to take a break, sitting back on a section of the upper deck near the wheel, working to repair the latest mishap, when his thoughts lingered on his lass. And just like that, she was there, sitting in his lap, her back toward him and his face buried in her vanilla scented hair. He could feel her supple skin against his, her hips moving back and forth, her soft rear pressing into his lap, his hand moving toward her breast. He kissed and bit along her shoulder, tasting her freshly showered skin. "Gods, Emma," he echoed into her shoulder, consumed with need. And then she was gone. His arms embraced thin air and he stumbled forward, nearly falling from his perch.

Burning with desire for his Swan, he decided he wanted to do something special for her. She had chosen him, had fallen in love with him, and even though he had expressed his feelings for her so long ago, and despite his appearing so confident that she'd eventually choose him, he knew it had always been a long shot with Emma. Her walls had been so thick, that he didn't know if she'd ever let him in.

But she had. She had finally learned a little thing called trust. And now love… true love of all things. His countless fantasies involving their future, the product of lonely nights, were now possibilities. Emma was his, as much as he was hers, and he wanted to show her how much she really meant to him, how far he would go for her. An idea forming in his mind, he left the work on the Jolly for another day, showered and changed clothes, intent on visiting the one person who could help him put his plan into action.

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Waking every evening with a faint headache that only subsided when she fed, Katrina had a rough week for the first time in a couple of centuries. She soon realized that Emma was more often absent from her apartment than present, spending some of her nights with Jones, so she fed more deeply from Emma at each visit, rather than just the usual meager tastes she reserved for typical devotees. She wouldn't risk drinking from Emma when she was in the arms of the lieutenant, so she satisfied herself with fewer feedings, feedings that always left Katrina with the same low-grade nausea she had experienced since Emma's hospital stay, also noting that the magical rush didn't seem to linger as long. She guessed it was just the foreign blood still mixed with Emma's.

Pulling into the morgue parking lot one night before work, Katrina happened to look over at the usually manicured lawn in front of her office building. She noticed that the grass had not been cut and realized she had forgotten to call the caretaker of the grounds. She shook her head as if to clear it, deciding to call the caretaker that evening and leave a message.

A few minutes later, walking into her office, she found a note on her desk requesting that she finish a report from a few nights ago. That was odd too because she never forgot to finish reports. She was very thorough at her job, and very organized. Nothing had ever slipped through her perfectly structured system before.

Concerned that perhaps her revenge was affecting more that just her bloodlust, and making a mental note of it, Katrina settled in for another night at work, deciding to tie up any loose ends before the weekend.

Hoping a drink would settle her nerves before she focused on her work, she spoke in a sultry tone, "Carl, I need you." She intentionally used words that would heighten Carl's desire for her.

Sitting in the main dissecting lab, reading over a scientific journal, he heard her calling to him from her office. Instead of the instant craving to do her bidding, he decided to make her wait a minute, snickering at the way her hold over him seemed to be waning. She repeated her request, louder this time, and he lazily got up from his stool and strolled to the doorway of her office. "Yes, mistress," he answered in an uninterested tone.

"Pull back your collar."

She looked desperate, and so with a yawn, Carl slowly moved forward to the other side of her desk, kneeled down in front of her, and pulled his shirt aside. She clamped onto him, and he shivered at the drawing of his own blood from that sensitive spot.

Licking her lips and fixing his collar, she hummed, "Thank you, darling." She stroked his cheek and he stood up, moving away from her and back into the other room.

Katrina watched him leave, unease unmistakeable in her features. Carl had appeared bored, defiant even. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she didn't like it.

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Emma nervously dressed for David's birthday party. Neal was bringing Henry, and the guests were due to arrive in the next few minutes. She and Mary Margaret had sent David out that day so they could decorate the apartment, enjoying each other's company as they hung paper lanterns and streamers. Having a family was so foreign to Emma that she sometimes felt like she was window-shopping—her nose pressed to a pane of glass—looking in on someone else's life, only to be whisked back to the present to realize that it was her own she was watching. She had never imagined she'd be planning a birthday party for her father, or for anyone related to her for that matter. Such domestic daily-ness was completely new to her, although oddly comforting.

Putting the final touches on her dark lipstick, Emma stepped away from the mirror to assess her outfit. She wore an eggplant colored one-shouldered top leaving one of her arms bare and the other sleeved. She paired it with long black slacks that swirled a little at the ankles, and strappy heels. She had her hair pulled to the side, pinned in the back so the waves bounced over her covered shoulder. She wondered what Killian would think, with his having only ever seen her in jeans and tanks.

The doorbell rang and she hurried downstairs, anxiously anticipating Killian's arrival. Mary Margaret and David walked out of their room at the same time, both looking at her with the proud-parent look. Emma rolled her eyes and opened the door.

"Hey, Mom!" Henry hugged her excitedly and ran into the room to hug his grandparents.

"Hi, Em." Neal gulped. His eyes swept her shape from her head to her toes, and the corners of his mouth turned up into an appreciative smile. "You look wonderful." He leaned forward, placing one arm around her back, and pecked her cheek.

Emma placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back a little, recovering the much needed space, and smiled in response, "Thank you. It's good to see you Neal."

Emma remained by the door, greeting each of the guests as they arrived. Archie, the seven dwarfs, Blue, Belle, Ruby and Dr. Whale, and even Regina—just to name a few—soon had the apartment full of happy conversation, back slapping, and laughter.

Emma was about to join the conversation between Leroy and Ruby when she heard another knock on the door. Laughing at Ruby's snappy response to Leroy, she opened the door, her smile freezing on her face at the sight of Killian leaning against the doorframe, her pirate who looked nothing like a pirate just then.

She allowed her eyes to deliberately travel down the length of his body. Along with the smirk on his face that faltered only a moment when he took in her dress, he wore a white button down shirt, with a striped pattern woven into the fabric, fitted across his broad shoulders, and tapering to his waist, with a blazer hanging over his left arm. He looked sinful—the way the shirt hugged the planes of his chest, of course the top two buttons were undone, and the cuffs were rolled up just past his wrists, exposing his hookless arm. His slacks were a dark charcoal gray that clung in all the right places. Looking back up into his intense blue gaze, his eyes shining with expectation, she instantly understood what he had done for her. Her lips parted a little and then he was placing his hand around her back and pulling her into him tightly.

Running his scruff over her naked shoulder, up her neck, and across her cheek, he whispered into her ear, "Swan. You look positively edible." The slow movement held the promise of his touch, and she closed her eyes in anticipation of the night they would have together. His voice was low and gravelly; he ran his teeth over his bottom lip, and leaned in to kiss her.

As if they were the only two in the room, Emma kissed Killian back, grateful for the partially open door that hid their interlude from the crowd. Pulling back a little, she teased, "You clean up nice, Pirate." Smiling devilishly, he let her go, allowing his hand to slide to her ass for just a moment before she opened the door the rest of the way to let him in, and then closed it behind him. Winking back at him, she took his coat to take it to the bedroom, and Killian began to walk over to David to wish him a Happy Birthday.

Killian had expected her to be surprised by his new attire, but he wasn't prepared for the vision she presented before him. Appreciating her glorious shape as she retreated with his coat, he yearned to caress the long column of her throat, never having seen her look so graceful, so elegant. His heart was already beating wildly before she opened the door, but seeing her beautiful form standing there, her green eyes conducting a slow perusal of his body, made it nearly soar out of his chest. She was so perfect, so lovely, and he wanted to leisurely worship her body with his.

Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice the two of them, except Ruby because she was nosy, and Belle, because she'd helped Killian dress for the occasion. Before Killian could make it over to David, Belle rushed up to him, "That went over well, I see." She took a tissue out of her purse and wiped the smeared dark red lipstick from his lips. She was beaming in delight; she loved helping people.

He smiled and gave a slight bow in response. "Aye. I think it did. Thank you again, milady."

Belle curtsied and smiled even wider if it was possible. "It was my pleasure. Besides, it was about time we get you out of all that leather." She sipped her punch.

He chuckled, "I'm actually quite surprised at how comfortable these street clothes are, even if they are a bit constrictive." He stretched at the shoulders of his shirt a little, the fit being much closer than the shirts to which he was accustomed.

When Emma reached David and Mary Margaret's bedroom, she looked back to make sure she wasn't followed, and then held Killian's jacket next to her nose. Breathing in his scent mingled with the newness of the cloth, she closed her eyes as tears began to well at the corners. He normally wore Captain Hook like body armor, protection against vulnerability, and a party like this one would definitely warrant full pirate garb—it was what she had expected him to wear—and yet he had completely exposed who he was to please her. That night, he was just Killian Jones, an earnest man who'd lost his hand in a fight and who was in love with Emma Swan.

She felt overwhelmed by his devotion. No one had ever made that kind of sacrifice for her before, and her tears began to fall in answer to the love she felt by the only man she'd ever really wanted to give her heart to.

Finding a tissue and carefully drying her eyes without smudging her mascara, she put on a smile and stepped back out into the joyful room.

Killian found her gaze almost immediately, and with a concerned look, began to walk toward her. She smiled sincerely and shook her head, waving her hand to assure him she was fine. Not to be thwarted, he came to her side anyway and quietly asked, "Are you well, love?"

Allowing the smile on her face to touch her eyes, she looked over at him, "Couldn't be better," then, smiling up at him, and still fighting back the tears, she added, "You really look fantastic, Killian."

He beamed in response, careful not to touch her, his siren that threatened every inch of his self control. "As do you, lass." He bowed his head at her almost formally. This was going to be a long night.

Mingling with the guests, Killian never leaving her side, Emma observed that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Even Regina, who had her head raised in laughter at something one of the dwarves had said. Emma watched her slowly surrender the tight reign she always held on herself, just enjoying the party. It was a rare moment—normally Regina only allowed herself to be vulnerable around Henry.

Henry ran up to his mom then. "Hey Mom, can we give David his present now?"

Smiling down at her son, she sighed and ruffled his hair. "I don't see why not."

She walked over to Mary Margaret, who hadn't removed her arm from David's since earlier that evening. Catching her eye, Emma watched as Mary Margaret disappeared into her bedroom. Henry followed her, and then came back out with something behind his back.

Standing tall in front of the crowd, without any self-consciousness, Henry addressed David. "We wanted to do something special for you, to show how much we love and appreciate you." He pulled the sword from behind his back, and placing it sideways across his palms, he presented it to his grandfather.

David looked at the splendid sword in disbelief. Taking it from Henry, he held it upright, testing its weight, checking its workmanship. He shifted the sword so it pointed to the floor and then pulled Henry into a rough embrace, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. He looked back at Mary Margaret and Emma, and opened his arms to both of them. The sight of the family hug inspired the rest of the group to clap for David's birthday.

Stepping back, David announced, "This has to be the most wonderful gift I've ever received. I can't believe I have a sword again! Thank you so much." He smiled at his family and then at everyone in the room.

Mary Margaret clapped her hands to get everyone's attention and shouted, "Let's cut the cake!"

As the guests filed toward the dining room table, Neal, having missed every one of Emma's shared moments with Killian and taking advantage of the fact that Killian was no longer next to her, slid up to her side. He wrapped his arm around her waist and inclined his head toward her, speaking in a low tone. "That went well."

Frustrated that he had ignored her declaration that she wasn't interested in a relationship with him, and trying not to brusquely push his arm away, even though she desired to be free from his touch, Emma pulled away a little and half-smiled back at him, "Yeah, I think it did. Henry is a great kid. I'm sure he told you the sword was his idea?"

Emma had moved forward enough to drop his arm from her waist, but not enough that he had to take it away completely. He kept his hand on her lower back, reminiscing about the feel of her body beneath his hands and wishing he could bury his face in her thick hair. He chuckled, "Of course, almost as soon as he had it."

Killian was standing off to the side, leaning against the counter with a glass of punch in his hand, and had watched Neal's arm snake around his enchanting Swan. He bore his eyes into them, hating the thought of the other man's arm around his lass, and as if Emma could feel his gaze, she turned her eyes to his, concentrated intensity in the cerulean depths, the electric current between them palpable. Her heart skipped a beat at the promise his stormy eyes pledged.

Trying to prolong the conversation, Neal continued, "He told me you had it made at the steel factory?" He stepped closer to her, having missed her so much; the long and lonely days spent at the antique store having been pure torture.

"A blacksmith from the Enchanted Forest works there. Drierson is his name." She walked forward a little more purposefully, still trying to dislodge his hand from her lower back, glancing back at Killian, whose gaze never left them.

Neal kept his hand firmly in place. "I've never heard of him. But he does good work regardless." He started fantasizing about their nights together in the back of the yellow bug all those years ago, and used his other hand to tug at his collar in agitation. Emma stopped walking near the wall between the living and dining rooms, and Neal used the opportunity to shift his body toward hers, effectively trapping her sideways against the wall, his body perpendicular to hers, allowing him to keep his right hand on her back. She shivered at his proximity, and Neal, misreading it, slid his left hand down her arm to entangle her fingers.

The crowd began singing 'Happy Birthday,' and Emma used the distraction to slip away from Neal and move behind Henry, placing her hands on his shoulders, relieved to be out of Neal's near-embrace, and afraid to catch Killian's eyes again, knowing the torment she would find in them. David blew out his candles, kissed Mary Margaret and hugged Emma and Henry once more. He announced, "This has to be the best birthday I've ever had. Thank you all so much!" Everyone clapped again and began accepting plates of cake as quickly as Mary Margaret could cut them.

The guests soon began to leave, one by one, starting with Ruby and Dr. Whale, with mischievous looks on their faces. Although Neal would have loved to be one of the last to leave so he could have Emma to himself for a few minutes, he left with Henry who had obviously had enough excitement for one evening. Emma hugged Henry goodbye, and as she pulled away, she found herself in Neal's arms, the hug lasting a little longer than was comfortable, with his telling her that he looked forward to seeing her the following week. Killian raised his brows at them, having watched Neal like a hawk since he first put his hand on his Swan, ready to pounce on the other man if he should get any more familiar with her, but careful to avoid a scene.

As the last guest filed out, only Killian, Mary Margaret, David and Emma stood in the living room.

Smiling, Mary Margaret remarked, "Well, I think that was a good party. Well done, Emma." She nodded her head forthrightly.

Emma smiled at Mary Margaret's stoic look. "Thanks… If you two want to turn in, we can get everything picked up." She looked over at Killian who raised one brow, a serious expression on his face, but a teasing look in his eyes. He definitely wanted to get her alone.

"Ok, if you're sure." Mary Margaret and David glanced at each other with 'that look' and then nodded. David walked over to Emma and embraced her tightly. "Thank you, Emma. This was a good surprise."

"You're welcome… I love you, David." Emma wasn't sure what made her tell him, but she knew it was the truth, and she wanted him to know how she felt.

David squeezed her tighter and choked, "I love you too." It was the first time she'd ever said it to him, and he realized Emma's love was his real gift. Trying not to cry, he walked back over to Mary Margaret and put his arm around her waist, leading her to their room.

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**Review?**


	17. Chapter 17

**Beta read by Revenessa, without whom this fiction would be rather wooden.**

**Hi Everyone! Thanks so much for your support. This one is full of feels. Sigh! Taking you into the weekend…**

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Chapter 17

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As soon as David and Mary Margaret disappeared into their room, Killian, still leaning against the counter, turned his brilliant gaze on Emma, who was nervously picking up paper cups from the table, scattering a few while she stacked them. Chuckling, he smirked, "Need a little help with that, lass?"

Willing her racing heart to slow, now that she was utterly aware they were alone, she carefully turned around, smiling at her clumsiness. "I thought that's why you were hanging out, Pirate, so you could help me clean up this mess."

"Perhaps… And perhaps I'm here for an altogether different reason." His eyebrows rose in invitation and Emma's heart sped up again as she dropped her gaze to the open neck of his shirt and then to his muscular thighs barely hidden beneath the thin fabric of his slacks.

Killian watched her eyes dilate with desire. Done with not being able to touch her all evening, and desperate to wipe out the image of Bae's hands on her, he crooked his finger at her, motioning her to come closer.

Without the will to deny him, and deciding to have a little fun, Emma languidly kicked off her shoes and turned around again, bending far over the table to reach a few more cups, giving him ample view of her backside. She threw him a glance over her shoulder in challenge.

Sure enough, his mouth gaped a little at her suggestive actions, noticing how her trousers tightened around her perfectly round derriere. He licked his lips, fantasizing about the feel of her against him. Gods, she was a minx.

Sensing that her pirate seemed too content just observing her, Emma slowly turned around, her green gaze locked on his blue one, and she ambled lazily over to him. Stopping in front of him, she slowly moved her hands to the buttons on his shirt, carefully slipping each one out of its hole, replacing her fingers with her mouth on his chest after she undid each one, more than pleased with the tremor that rippled through his muscles at her touch.

Killian placed his hand on her arm, his wrist on the other, as need flooded him in tandem with her movements down his body. As she reached the waistband of his slacks, his heart skipped a beat and he flushed with desire, the thought of Emma's hands on him burning him from the inside out.

Pulling her head up, and drawing her cheek across his face toward his ear, she whispered, "Now, can I get some help around here?"

Catching the mischievous gleam in her eyes, he grabbed her ass and pulled her against him, smirk intact, so she could feel the result of her thorough seduction.

Leaving her hands at his waist band, and pressing into him, loving the gooseflesh that covered her body at his touch, she giggled into his ear, then took the lobe into her mouth, breathing heavily and kissing down his neck.

Killian gasped from the force of the chemistry between them igniting the air around them with a magnetic charge. He never remembered feeling this aroused, so owned by anyone in his life, not even Milah. He began trailing kisses over her exposed neck and shoulder, dragging his lips across the soft skin. "Can we go upstairs?" he rasped into her shoulder.

Deciding that the mess could wait, Emma moved back to his ear. "Aye." She said it in a low and gravelly voice, a very good imitation of his own accent.

Smiling into her shoulder, and then lifting his glinting blue eyes to hers, he pinched her rear this time and allowed her to move back from him, to take his hand and lead him to her bedroom. To say he was a happy man would be an understatement.

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Katrina was hungry, her bloodlust stronger than usual. After the rough week, and the headache that seemed to come and go, all she could think about was her next kill.

Her victim was a retired tanner who lived on the very edge of town. Never married, he grew his own food and rarely left his house, preferring instead to fill his time reading books and doing odd jobs around the garden. He was pretty close to self-sustainable, and of course a loner, so he made the perfect prey.

Arriving at his house past midnight, Katrina quietly let herself in through the unlocked patio door, her dark red dress trailing behind her as she crept through the dark rooms. She silently moved to his bedroom, listening to the sound of his beating heart echoing in her sensitive ears. Licking the air with her tongue, she tasted broth, presumably from his supper, and she wondered if he would have chosen it if he had known it was to be his last meal. The corners of her mouth turned up in mirth at the deliciousness of the entire situation. Waiting so long between kills was excruciating, although a necessary evil for self-preservation, and Katrina's instinct was particularly strong.

She stealthily bent down over the sleeping man and caressed his face. He woke with a start, but she crooned so beautifully that he settled down quickly, thinking she was an illusion from his dreams. Continuing her enchanting and eerie song, she traced her mouth where her fingers had been, singing and inhaling his warm grandfatherly scent. She moved to his neck and bit, eliciting a startled moan from him as the powerful draw from her teeth drained him before he could even think to fight back.

Her bloodlust momentarily sated, Katrina gathered the old man in her arms, walked out of the patio door, and leapt into the air. She was so focused on getting him to the morgue that she didn't even realize she left the door open.

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Emma had barely closed the door to her room before Killian was pulling her into his embrace, desperate to touch her. Catching her mouth with his own, he stroked her tongue with his, the fire in his body provoked by the low moan that issued from her throat. She put her hands to his belly, slowly running them up his muscular torso, over the soft spattering of hair to his shoulders, where she gently pushed his shirt off his arms. He let the fabric fall to the floor and then encircled her again, the heat from his flesh warming her to her toes.

Entangling her fingers in his hair, she tipped her head back as he trailed kisses down her neck to her pulse point. He nipped and sucked sharply at the sensitive spot, and Emma shuddered in response, eager to feel all of him.

He bent his head down and began fumbling around her shirt, looking for a way to take it off. "Swan, let me see you," he grunted. He pulled his head back up to her face, rubbing his nose against hers for a moment.

She smiled into his lips and stepped back, unzipping the side of her shirt and the back of her slacks at the same time, allowing them to pool at her ankles, revealing her black lace underwear and black bra. Killian's sharp intake of breath sent a shiver down her limbs as his steady gaze swept her form. "Gods, you're so perfect." His voice unstable, he raked his hand through his hair as a fleeting image of the crocodile's son's hands on her waist filled him with a desire to burn his own touch into hers so she'd never forget who claimed her now.

Emma stood in front of him, triumphing in the raw need she read in his intense blue eyes. She reached her hands toward him again, aching to be held, to melt into his solid embrace. He didn't leave her wanting.

Heartbeat quickening in anticipation, and desire erupting, he picked her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, and pushed her against the door of the bedroom, eliminating any space between them, and would have taken her then if their clothes weren't still in the way.

She forced her hips into him, glorying in the feel of his solidness next to her soft curves. She was kissing him again, running her hands along his upper back as he held her with the strength of a man long denied his utmost need who finds it suddenly placed before him. She loved him, loved his vulnerability, his gorgeous blue eyes, the way he flirted with any lass, but who reserved his love for only one.

He spun them around then, collapsing onto the bed, covering her body with his own, as his mouth traced a path across her torso.

Emma lowered her hands to the waistband of his slacks again, and he groaned into her neck at her touch. She undid the button and zipper, her sudden laughter echoing in the quiet room that moments before had only held the sounds of heavy breathing and low moans. Killian Jones, who had gone to all the trouble of purchasing clothes she would like, who had transformed himself from the pirate into the gentleman… wasn't wearing any underwear. Her soft laugh was cut off by a tender kiss, lips tugging hers in a sliding motion that made her forget anything but the man with her; she tightened her arms around him and deepened the kiss, a curse escaping him.

Free from the confines of his slacks, Killian took Emma, body and soul, and as she brought his heart back to life, he knew he would be forever hers.

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David awoke and placed his arms around his wife, drawing her into his chest. Seeing Emma and Hook's looks at each other the night before reminded him of his own path to true love, and he found himself flooded with images of their crazy courtship and all the obstacles to their finding one another, finally culminating in their wedding day. He loved her so much, and couldn't bear the thought of ever losing her again. He recognized in Killian what he saw in himself—the desire to fight for the one he loved no matter the cost, no matter the outcome. He sighed, idly tracing patterns in Snow's belly as his thoughts continued to wander.

The fact that Neal wasn't much of a fighter always bothered him a bit. He knew how difficult it had been to get where he was with his fabulous wife; he knew what it took, and he never quite saw that desire in Neal. Neal wasn't lazy, but he was easy-going, and even though he said he'd fight for what he wanted, he came from a line of men who ran from fear and responsibility. Neal had remade himself, had fought Pan and his father, but there was still something about him that made David uneasy—as if he didn't trust that Neal wouldn't leave Emma again if some reason bigger than himself ever presented itself. Conversely, David knew Hook was loyal to a fault, truly a one-woman man for all his boasting and pirate-ways. Hook would never betray Emma or leave her; he'd consider it 'bad form' to begin with, but he wouldn't leave her because he loved her. He loved her the way David loved Mary Margaret. Hook would go to the ends of the earth for his little girl, and as that knowledge had dawned on him, he had begun to like Hook more and more.

And so, hugging Mary Margaret while she dozed, David decided to invite Hook on a little mission that might give him time to talk to the pirate about his intentions. He had a new sword, but no scabbard for it, and he knew just the person to make one for him, a retired tanner who used to work for the king.

Once his mind was settled, he fell back to sleep, curled up next to his soft and enticing wife.

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Awakening to the smell of hot pancakes and bacon, the Charmings inhaled deeply and grinned at each other, dressing quickly and walking out into the main room. Everything was tidied up from the party, and Emma and Hook were standing with their backs to them in the kitchen, side by side, arms touching. Hook was dressed in his slacks and shirt from the night before, towel over his shoulder and Emma in her pajamas.

David hooked an arm around his wife, feeling her stiffen for just a second before she took a deep breath and relaxed, leaning her head against his shoulder. It sometimes took a moment for them to remember that Emma was an adult.

Emma nudged Killian, "The bacon is smoking. You need to turn the fire down." She left his side a moment to reach into the refrigerator for the milk to add to her coffee.

"That's not the only thing that's smoking. Care to douse my fire, lass?" He took the towel from his shoulder and used it to pop her hip, raising a brow in mocking innocence when she quickly stood back upright.

"You cheeky bastard." She bumped him with her hip, and he bumped her back, until they were shoving each other back in forth in a kind of lumpy dance. After a moment, Emma dropped her head back and laughed, then placed her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and hugged her to him, planting a kiss on her upturned mouth.

David and Mary Margaret witnessed the entire exchange in disbelief, mouths open and staring. Emma looked so relaxed, so happy; she was having fun, and neither one of them had ever seen her enjoy herself so much. Glancing back at each other, they smiled in agreement. They liked the effect the pirate had on their daughter.

They walked up to the counter and sat down at the bar stools, expectantly waiting to be noticed.

Emma turned a little to the side and saw her parents in the corner of her eye, causing her to jump a little and move out of Killian's arms. "Oh! Good morning… Would you like some coffee?" Emma was hoping to play it cool, like it was no big deal that Killian had stayed over, although her voice sounded a little higher than usual. She had no idea how her parents would react, although she hoped they would be forgiving, or at least understanding; after all, she wasn't a teenager, even though they sometimes treated her that way.

They both said "Sure" simultaneously, and smiled gently at Emma.

Emma didn't miss their expressions and breathed a sigh of relief. Killian kept his eyes on the stove, flipping pancakes and turning bacon, silently praying the moment he turned around wouldn't be awkward.

Emma served her parents their coffee, and then placed both hands on the counter as she looked at them and stated, "David, Mary Margaret… Killian and I are seeing each other." There, it was out, Emma not being the type to beat around the bush.

Killian turned around at the sound of his name, watching the Charmings' expressions for their reactions. He discerned the amusement in their eyes and breathed a sigh of relief much like Emma's a moment before.

Her mother grinned with a twinkle in her eye. "Well, I certainly hope so."

David chuckled and shook his head. They were very new to this parenting thing, and he thought he understood how his mother had felt when he came home telling her something entertaining, but unsettling. Emma was an adult, and he didn't want to chance pushing her away, especially after last night's admission.

Placing her hand on Killian's shoulder for just a moment, Emma moved away and grabbed a stack of plates from the cabinet and cutlery from the drawer, moving to the dining room to set the table. Mary Margaret helped, and Emma went back to the kitchen for butter and syrup. Killian brought a stack of pancakes and a platter of crispy bacon and set it in the middle of the table. Taking hers and Killian's coffee to the table, they all sat down to the wonderful breakfast.

Looking up at Hook, Mary Margaret marveled at the presentation, "I'm impressed. This is better than Granny's. Thank you."

Killian winked in response, "I'm flattered, your highness." He had hoped he could charm Emma's parents. Their being the rulers of a kingdom made them a bit intimidating on account of his interest in their daughter.

The pancakes really were delicious, and everyone settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes while they took their first bites.

After a bit, Mary Margaret started, "I'm off work on Thursday, so David and I were thinking of taking the day to go hiking and picnic in the woods."

Emma nodded, but didn't say anything, so Killian spoke. "I can't imagine anyone desiring a hike after Neverland," he teased.

Mary Margaret was not to be dissuaded. "We've actually been on lots of hikes around these woods. It reminds us of our courtship." She smiled over at David, who smiled back at her in agreement and reached across the table to squeeze her hand.

David looked over at Killian. "Oh, Hook, I wondered if you'd like to join me on a bit of an expedition." At Killian's raised brow, he continued, "I want to get a scabbard made for my new sword. You might enjoy meeting Mr. Stacey—he's a leather maker who used to work for the king."

"Aye. I would enjoy an opportunity to meet a skilled leather tatter. You can never have too much leather." He wiggled his brows and smiled suggestively over at Emma. He couldn't help but imagine her in a pair of tight leather breeches; she would be absolutely ravishing.

Rolling her eyes and grinning, Emma shook her head, laughing. "More leather is the last thing you need." She had finished her breakfast and stood up to refill her coffee, taking Killian's cup too.

Killian watched her retreating back. She'd put on a pair of flannel trousers and a long sleeved shirt against the chill. The sight of her black strap peeking from the neckline brought his mind back to the previous night and their escapades. Sighing, he glanced at the Charmings, who were discussing what food they would pack for their trip.

After breakfast, Mary Margaret and David offered to clean up the kitchen, leaving Killian and Emma free to retreat to her bedroom.

Once the door closed behind them, Killian pulled Emma into his arms. "That went over rather well, I think." He closed his eyes, resting his chin on her head, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. His heart had nearly burst out of his chest when he heard them come into the kitchen, his coolness belying his anxiety. They were the rulers of a kingdom, and Killian was a pirate after their daughter's heart. If they were in the Enchanted Forest, he wouldn't stand a chance with Emma. There would be too many obstacles against them; but here, here he could remake himself into the honorable man he desired to be, that he used to be. Reassured by her parent's reactions, that he would at least be given a chance, he tightened his arms around his lass.

"Yeah, I think so too. I'm glad they're not putting up a fight, although I am a bit surprised that Mary Margaret didn't say anything."

Killian sighed quietly. "Maybe she sees what I see."

"And what's that?" Emma whispered back.

"True love." His too blue eyes twinkled in delight, taking in her messy hair and smudged mascara. She'd never looked more lovely, relaxed in his arms where she belonged.

"So that's what this is?" The corners of her mouth edged upward, not quite ready for the playfulness of the morning to end. She remembered the first time he'd said that to her, a question back then, and she cocked her head at him, wondering if he had known then what she suspected now.

Killian's earnest expression spoke volumes about his love for her, his hopes for their future, his dreams that had been a speck of dust turned into a tornado. His sapphire eyes brightened in intensity, and he leaned down to kiss her, slow and languid, stoking the fire between them.

Opening her mouth against his, she kissed him back with equal passion, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on her tiptoes to reach him better. Things were quickly escalating. Desire pooling in her center, she broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his mouth, catching her breath. "My parents are downstairs," she heaved.

His breathing matched her own. "That didn't stop you last night, lass."

"Yes, but now they're awake."

He grinned naughtily. "I can be quiet if you can." He began trailing kisses down her neck, his mouth descending down the long column of her throat, his scruff teasing the soft skin, trying to convince her that a little lovemaking would be the perfect denouement to breakfast.

She leaned her head to the side to give him better access to her neck, and he moved her bra strap aside to plant wet nips where it had been resting. Not convincingly, she whispered, "Killian, stop."

Killian was a gentleman, and regardless of her actions, the word 'stop' brought him up short. Raising his head and looking into her eyes, he saw the anxiety in her features. He kissed the wrinkle between her brows and then rubbed her arms up and down, as if trying to warm her up, allowing his own desire to calm. "What do you suggest we do with our day?"

"Our day?" She tilted her head to the side, liking the sound of 'our' rolling off his tongue easily, as though he always spent his days with her. She smiled, "How about we just hang out?"

"Hang out?" He said it slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue. "What's 'hang out'?"

"Just spending the day together doing nothing in particular."

He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, liking the sound of hanging out for the day. "Sounds lovely, lass."

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Later that day, Mary Margaret, David, Emma and Killian sat around a friendly game of Scrabble. Killian was winning by a long shot.

"Totally not fair!" Emma whined, "Who even uses words like: betwixt, forsooth, and verily?"

Killian grinned, deciding he liked Scrabble tremendously. "Envious because I bested you, Swan?" He winked at her frustration.

David and Mary Margaret laughed heartily, having enjoyed the game and the company immensely. Yes, the pirate was definitely growing on them.

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	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

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Katrina knew Emma's son shared his time among Emma, the mayor and the boy's father. This week, Henry was staying with Emma, so she was likely to be in her bedroom at night and Katrina would have ample opportunity to visit her. That thought pinged around in her brain like a pinball, stimulating various other images that included Liam's face as he bent over her hand, declaring he would come for her, followed by his broken-hearted visage at the revelation of her so-called "infection," the word itself inspiring rage.

Katrina felt a warm droplet fall on her hand. She was sitting up in bed, waiting for sleep to overtake her, and leaning against her head board, allowing the cool silk of her sheets to slide back and forth across her legs as she moved them, enjoying the soft fibers against her perfectly smooth skin. Her eyes found the droplet on the top of her hand, curiously watching as it slid down the side, chilling the spot it touched. It was a tear. The last time Katrina had cried, it had been as she'd knelt on the floor of her childhood home, sobbing in agony over her family's slaughtered bodies. The tear's presence baffled Katrina, who was generally untouched by thoughts of any kind, whether of Liam or anyone else.

Puzzling changes had been occurring since she decided to pursue this last leg of her revenge. Shifting her body downward in her four-poster bed, her headache momentarily abated, Katrina decided she was going to end her cat and mouse game soon.

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"Hey, mate," Killian greeted, as he slid into the front seat of David's truck, excited to have a reason to get out of working on his ship for the day.

"How's it going, Hook?" David noticed that Killian was back to wearing his leather and his hook, marking quite the contrast from his attire over the weekend.

Silently hoping their conversation wouldn't be awkward, he replied, "Not a great deal. Just renovations." He stared out the window of the truck as David turned toward one of the country roads leading away from the town center.

David nodded once and they sat in silence, David trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Emma.

It was Killian who finally broke the silence. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure." David turned his head toward Killian before looking back out onto the road, his expression expectant.

"Do you mind calling me by my given name? I have a reputation I'm trying to live down." Killian wiped his hand across his brow, feeling a little vulnerable.

David's lips turned up into a tiny smile, mute for a moment before replying. "I think I can manage that." He understood what it was like to be mistaken for a villain back when he was expected to act the part of Prince James, and so he'd allow Killian an opportunity to change, especially since he was dating his daughter. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

Curious, Killian looked back at David, relieved that he had accepted his request so easily with no questions asked. "Aye."

"What are your intentions regarding my daughter?" David kept his voice level, hoping Killian wouldn't dodge the question.

"That's to the point, mate." Killian cocked one eyebrow up, and looked back out the window, his heart speeding up a little at the mention of his beloved.

"Still doesn't negate the question."

Killian considered a minute before deciding to tell David the truth. "I'd like to eventually espouse the woman, but as I don't think she'd have me quite yet, my intention is to wear away any resistance." Killian smiled then, imagining the fun he was going to have convincing Emma they belonged together forever. Glancing sheepishly at David, he mumbled, "But perhaps you could keep that information to yourself."

Plainly surprised, David couldn't keep his eyes from widening in astonishment. Even though he suspected true love between his daughter and the pirate, it was still difficult to imagine the two of them actually making a life together, especially when he was dressed as he was now. And then there was the question of what kind of job he could get to support a family. Who would hire Captain Hook? He quietly answered, "Sure," afraid to break the camaraderie with words that might not come out the way he intended.

Arriving at the tanner's house, David and Killian got out of the truck and walked to the front door. David knocked and called out, "Mr. Stacey, it's David Nolan."

David had met Mr. Stacey in Storybrooke, not in the Enchanted Forest. He often visited people in the mornings after Mary Margaret left for school and before he reported to work. He was a loyal prince, checking in with his subjects frequently. The residents loved him all the more for it and respected his authority, although Regina of course hated that the people naturally turned to him for leadership.

There was no answer.

Shrugging his shoulders, David walked around to the back of the house, Killian following, thinking that perhaps Mr. Stacey was outside in his large garden.

The sliding glass patio door was open, and not seeing his friend outside, he knocked on the door, calling out again. No answer. Looking at Killian with concern, David slipped through the door and into the house, pulling his gun out of the holster. "We're coming in, Mr. Stacey!"

Killian walked in after him, hook ready in case of trouble, staying near the open door, noting that the temperature inside the house was the same as outside, indicating that the door had been open for awhile.

David appeared from one of the back rooms. "He isn't here."

"Is it possible he's out for a hike?"

"As far as I know, he doesn't ever leave the house. If he needed something from town, he had a friend who checked in with him once a month." David scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You know, our last missing person case—Lonnie Anderson—his house was just like this one, as if he got up and walked out the door, never to return."

"And you're positive he won't be returning?" Killian asked, as he checked the contents of one cupboard, still fully stocked with supplies.

"No, not positive, but it is curious, and worthy of investigation."

They left the house and drove back toward town, David fearing another missing person case to indicate a possible new threat in Storybrooke.

Hoping to run into Emma when they got back to town, and looking for any excuse to see her, Killian casually asked David where Emma was. Lost in thought, David didn't hear Killian's question right away.

Killian spoke a little louder to get David's attention. "Oi, mate, I asked what Emma was doing this afternoon."

"Oh, sorry. She's out apartment shopping with Neal and Henry." David still held the faraway look in his eyes, trying to piece together similarities between Anderson and Stacey. He knew Mr. Stacey pretty well, and the old man wouldn't have left without a trace.

"She's with Bae?" Killian almost looked hurt. She hadn't mentioned it to him, and he wondered if maybe he'd misread her actions at the party where it seemed she only wanted to be free of Bae's touch.

David didn't notice and continued. "Yeah, he pretty much owns this town now that his father is gone, and he offered to find her a place."

Emma hadn't mentioned that either, and Killian wondered why she'd kept it from him. Not sure how to respond, he simply told David he could drop him back off at the Jolly Roger.

Killian left David with a handshake and a curt nod, walking down the pier to his ship, lost in thought, the images of Bae's arms lingering around his Swan the other night playing like a broken record in his head.

Grabbing the rum, he settled in for the afternoon, brooding about his lass and the Crocodile's son, feeling disposable, knowing Bae would always possess a secure place in her heart, sharing the most important person to her, her son.

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Neal arrived at the station on time, ready to show Emma and Henry the places he thought would fit their needs, including himself in the 'their,' because he was positive that sooner or later his little family would be reunited, which was why he'd been so happy to help Emma in the first place. "Hi, Em. Hi, Henry." Neal leaned over to kiss Emma's cheek and gave her a half hug, while Henry hugged his waist. He met Emma and Henry at the station, ready to show them the places he thought would fit their needs.

"Hey, Neal. Thanks again for doing this," she yawned.

"No problem," he beamed, happy to be helping and not noticing Emma's tired eyes. "Ready to see what I've found?"

Henry watched his parents with interest and shouted, "Yeah. Let's go."

They all filed into Emma's bug and drove off toward the first place, an apartment not far from where she lived now. Emma smiled apprehensively, the unsettling feeling of being in her car with Neal occupying the passenger seat again bringing up the memories of their past and haunting her like an unwanted dream.

Neal, on the other hand, could only grin happily from his seat, watching Emma from the corner of his eye sometimes, reliving all their great times together in that car. He noticed the way her cheekbones stood out in relief, her face having lost the soft roundness of youth. She had only grown more beautiful with age, and he misinterpreted her nervous smile as confirmation that she was feeling the same things he was.

He motioned for her to turn off the main road, and pointed to the dwelling ahead. The building was square, boasting only four units, the upper left apartment vacant and facing the street. Emma and Henry liked the location, but it just didn't feel like them. Looking at each other after walking through every room, they shook their heads together.

Neal laughed at how much Henry favored his mother in that moment. "Next?"

"Yes," they both answered at the same time.

The next apartment was much the same. The floor-plan was a little better, but again, even though the location was good, it just didn't feel right.

Neal took them to a third place on the outskirts of town. It was a duplex, one side rented by an elderly lady who had lived there for years, the other side vacant for almost as long. After Neal let them in, Emma noticed the fading wallpaper, wood floors, dust and cobwebs. It had two bedrooms, one bath and a tiny kitchen. This place was going to need some work, and Emma didn't think she had that kind of energy, so even though Henry liked that it had a backyard, she turned it down, ready for something more turn-key.

Getting more and more fatigued, Emma was glad there was only one more place to check out.

"Ok, I've saved the best for last anyway." Neal took them to a small cottage, on the end of town near the grocery, but still not far from the station or the school. The couple who last rented it had left only recently, deciding to buy something larger for their growing family.

Letting them in, Emma and Henry gasped in delight. The main room was surrounded by a wall of windows. The floors were hard wood, the kitchen and dining area was open to the living room, and behind the main rooms were two bedrooms, each with their own full baths. Emma smiled in astonishment; the place was just perfect, and within walking distance of the harbor. Her smile brightened as thoughts of her pirate filled her mind. "How did you ever find this place?"

Neal winked, "I have my methods." He also liked the location, since it was close to the antique shop.

"Is it within our price range?" Emma hoped it was.

"You know the owner, so I think he might give you a break on the rent."

Emma inwardly groaned. She knew he was getting his hopes up again, hopes for their future, and she didn't want things to get awkward. While Henry raced around the rooms, visualizing where he was going to put all his stuff, Emma took Neal's elbow and moved him out of earshot of their elated son, ready to confront Neal again, frustrated that she had to do this all over again, but not wanting a repeat of his actions at the party.

She stood with her arms crossed and shoulders shrugged as if she was cold, her expression serious. "Neal. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I appreciate all you're doing, but I want you to treat us the same way you would anyone else."

Thinking she just didn't want to rely on anyone, which was typical of Emma's personality, he leaned forward, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, sliding them down to her elbows and finally letting them fall to his sides. He smiled reassuringly at her. "I know, Em. The truth is, the rent isn't that high. With the location so close to the harbor, it's hard to rent on account of boats coming in and out at all hours. With all the windows, the lights from the harbor at night can be aggravating because it never gets truly dark in here. Often times, it's only rented for a couple of months at a time. The last couple didn't seem to mind it, but they were the exception rather than the rule."

She knew he was hedging her comment, but hell, she wasn't being completely honest either. Looking into his eager eyes, deciding it was now or never, she admitted, "Neal there's something I have to tell you. I… I'm with Killian now." She silently prayed he'd take it well.

At first Neal just stared at her in shock, then anger, then sadness, the emotions flitting across his face in quick succession. He allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts before softly answering. "So you chose him, huh?"

Her heart beating in her ears, wishing she could be anywhere else, she nodded, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry."

Brusquely shaking it off, Neal looked up. He would be a man about it. He didn't expect a relationship with Hook to last, so he'd be there to pick up the pieces when she finally learned Hook's true character. Downplaying his hurt, he remarked, "Ah, well, I hope you'll be happy with him."

He turned his attention to Henry and brusquely walked away.

Emma sighed in relief, glad to have that off her chest, and glad to have found a home that suited them. Henry came bouncing toward her. Looking back up at Neal, a cautious smile on her face and a toothy grin on Henry's, she said, "We'll take it."

Neal smiled too, happy that they were happy, but sad to have to wait even longer for Emma's heart.

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Emma awoke in the middle of the night, shaking from the same nightmare, swearing she had heard the sound of laughter in her room only a moment before. She couldn't know that the vampire stalking her had just made her nightly visit, had in fact, just closed the window not even seconds before Emma sat up in fear, heart racing, and sweat breaking out all over her body.

Hugging her knees, she willed herself to calm down, repeating over and over again that it was just a dream. All she wanted was to be in Killian's arms, but with Henry home, she couldn't leave the apartment. Turning her mind to her handsome pirate, she started picturing the last time she'd seen him, Sunday evening, after the party. He had spent the entire day with her parents and her, settling into easy conversation with them all, content to do whatever anyone wanted, easily entertained. Reflecting on Killian soon had her effectively comforted, imagining herself curled up next to his body. The heat radiating from his chest warmed her from the inside out, and his bare thighs pressed into the back of hers with quiet reassurance. His left arm sat beneath her neck, wrapping around her shoulder to her chest, while his right hand gently rubbed her stomach, only to slowly trail lower and lower until she was gasping at the anticipation of his fingers reaching her center. She clutched his hand, guiding him to just the right spot, and parted her knees just a little, scooting her backside into the juncture of his thighs. He moaned into her hair and the sound encouraged her to give herself over to the waves of pleasure that washed over her at his touch. Sated and complete, she settled down, relaxing into his embrace, allowing his strong heartbeat to echo into her back, the sound reverberating throughout her entire body.

She fell asleep amid the smell of cardamom and rum.

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Normally, Katrina would never take more than one victim a week, but her mildly pounding head only seemed to completely abate when she fed, and by the middle of the week, she was desperate for relief. Having called Carl to inform him she wouldn't be at work that night, she had visited the Swan woman first, accustomed by now to the slight queasy feeling in her stomach after feeding from her.

She flew to her home to change out of her catsuit, noticing that Emma's magic seemed to be weakening, since she didn't have the usual power surge from it. Katrina had already picked her victim, a young construction worker without a past and without a connection to anyone. She had been sure to check thoroughly this time after the Mable Anderson fiasco.

Donning her dark red dress, the one that floated around her the way blood pooled around an open wound, and feeling better already as the adrenaline surged through her body, she flew out into the night air letting the sights and sounds distract her for awhile, not going to the home of her victim right away. This kill would be trickier—he had a neighbor who lived on a nearby property, a crazy woman with lots of cats everywhere. Katrina wasn't too worried about her—she kept to herself so she likely wouldn't be a problem, and Katrina was as quiet and stealthy as a panther stalking its prey.

The cat lady was none other than Mable Anderson, which Katrina would have known if she had done any research on her victim's neighbor. Mable's husband had left her years ago, tired of her mood changes and criticism, and the two-story house resonated with emptiness. She was lonely, even with all her cats. During the day, her cats were enough company, keeping her busy and entertained by their antics, but the nights… the nights were long, and with each passing year, she found herself sleeping less and wandering more. And so it was natural for her now, several nights a week, to wake up extra early in the morning, rise from her bed, careful not to wake her dear Cinnamon sleeping at the foot of the bed, put on her pink pom-pom slippers, secure a matching robe around her frame, and in silence, creep over to her sewing room balcony. She knew it was wrong, but didn't know how to stop; watching him reminded her of Lonnie when he was young.

Tiptoeing out onto the balcony, she would raise the binoculars to her eyes, hands trembling as she found her young and sturdy neighbor's bedroom window. He slept naked, and she liked to watch the rise and fall of his chest, and the rise and fall of other parts of his body depending on his dreams.

That night, she was in for a surprise.

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	19. Chapter 19

**You guys who leave a review every chapter-you're awesome! Thanks muchly. To Nouqueret: I love Van Helsing! That's quite a compliment!  
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**Ok, so here's where things pick up a bit...**

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Chapter 19

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Relaxing in a tree, breathing in the fresh pine that was in bloom, listening to the burrowing of opossums and the scurrying of rats, Katrina lost track of time. Looking down from her perch, she decided it was time to eat, and without noting the closeness of the morning, she opened the window of the man's bedroom and carefully climbed inside.

Singing her eerie song, she glided over to his bed where he lay sprawled, naked on top of his blankets. His slow and steady heartbeat echoed in her ears, and she fell on top of him, his muscled body bucking upward at the contact. His eyes flew open just as she bit into his neck, his hands wrapping around her waist in a rugged embrace, intent on removing the threat, until his entire body went limp as his life drained out of his neck. "Ahhh," she moaned low in her throat. He tasted so good, so young and so strong. He had lots of bright red oxygenated blood, and it flowed into her and obliterated the headache that drove her mad with its persistence.

As she lifted her head, allowing the blood to drip from the corners of her mouth, wallowing in the feel of its thickness as it dribbled down her chin, she heard a noise. Her body completely still and coiled for attack, she discerned another heartbeat, rapid and erratic, a stifled scream and a gasp. Whipping her long red mane around, her sharp eyes located the source of the sound through the window on the other side of the room—the cat lady neighbor at her balcony, staring through binoculars, mouth wide open in horror.

Moving quickly, Katrina flew through the glass, shattering it, and struck the woman before the binoculars even hit the floor, her extreme force throwing both of them back against the balcony door. Taking her quickly, Katrina buried her face in the meddlesome woman's neck, finishing her off in a flash, thinking of how lucky she was to get dessert; it had been a long time since she'd had two victims in one night.

Lying on top of her prey for a long moment, Katrina rolled off to the side and onto her back, staring up at the vast sky, allowing the blood to invigorate her senses. Suddenly, as if waking from a dream, she noticed the darkness lighten just a bit, and she rose up in terror. She had to get back to her crypt, but how was she going to clean up the mess she'd made and dispose of the bodies too?

Flying as rapidly as she could, racing against the brightening rays of the sun, she arrived at her crypt, dashed inside to grab her cell phone, and climbed back out to make sure she had signal. Dialing Carl's number, she waited while it rang several times. Finally, he hissed, "What is it?"

Not even bothering with the fact that Carl had never spoken to her that way, Katrina nearly shouted, "I need you to dispose of two victims for me. I have to get inside." She gave him the location and hung up, confident he would take care of everything.

She closed the door to the crypt just as the shadows in the forest nearby began to shorten.

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David and Mary Margaret awoke early, anticipating their hike and picnic together. Mary Margaret packed a lunch of water bottles, sandwiches, trail bars and a couple of bananas. Dressed in cargo pants, hiking boots and a light jacket, she put everything into their lunch kit, and called out to David, "Honey, I'm ready when you are."

David left his bedroom, dressed almost the same as his wife, and smiled. "Let's go." He walked up to her and embraced her, kissing her smooth lips, excited to have her all to himself for the day.

Emma wasn't up yet, but it was still early.

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Carl got the call from Katrina just as he left the morgue. He let the phone ring for awhile before deciding to pick it up; annoyed and wishing he could avoid the call altogether. He had to go into town to pick up the large trap his brother-in-law had repaired, and then he wanted to scout locations for its placement, having tracked a large she-wolf the past couple of months that only appeared when the moon was full.

Ever since that first full moon after the curse, after he'd initially laid eyes on her, he'd dreamt of the beautiful and graceful animal that blended into the shadows as though she were born of them. He craved to be near her, to feel her heartbeat under his hand, to meticulously stroke her long, downy body. He desired complete dominion over her, his appetite growing with every passing week, the common animals he trapped and fondled doing nothing to assuage his lust for her. He only had three large traps, so he needed to situate them carefully if he hoped to catch her this month, rather than await another lunar cycle. Trap placement was everything, and he needed time to scout the forest.

Katrina's call meant he'd lose the scouting day, and he was irate about it.

Katrina had given her instructions, so Carl went to the location of the victims' homes first, to assess the damage. Parking his car in front of the construction worker's house, the leaves crunching under his feet as he walked around to the back, he glanced at the balcony of the neighbor's house, where the woman was folded up at an odd angle, cats circling her lifeless body, meowing loudly. Noticing the shattered glass near his feet, he peeked in through the window and saw the other victim, a large naked man. Both presented a problem. How was Carl supposed to move two people by himself?

Getting a plan together, he decided he'd go back into town, stop by the hardware store for the tools he needed for the job, and then visit his brother-in-law to pick up the trap. He'd hide the victims in his car until that night when he could incinerate them at the morgue. Katrina could help him with the heavy lifting then.

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Killian hadn't seen Emma in a few days since Henry was home, and without any way to get in touch with her, he decided he'd go into town to see her, desiring to talk with her about Neal to reassure himself that she had really ended things with him. He was also worried about her—especially since he was still having the nightmare nearly every night, which meant she was too. And then there was the matter of the approaching full moon unsettling him further since his dream included a large wolf attacking his Swan.

Putting on a pair of jeans that Belle had helped him pick out when he had purchased clothes for the party—they were rather comfortable—Killian noticed the menacing clouds that gathered over the forest, signaling rain, and walked over to Granny's to pick up hot chocolates for his lass and him before the sky fell in.

He stepped in the door to the sound of an appreciative whistle directed his way. Looking up, he saw Ruby eyeing him from behind the counter, a playful smile on her red lips and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Hey, sailor, like the new digs."

Not quite sure what she was talking about, but guessing by her gaze it was his new jeans and button down shirt, he feigned an easy smile, "You're looking rather fashionable yourself, lass." Killian was playing it cool. He'd been having a nightmare about a monstrous beast for weeks now, and with the full moon coming up and the she-wolf not being just any ordinary canine, Ruby could only be considered a threat, even if most of the town didn't consider her to be one.

Keeping his attention engaged on her as he stood at the counter waiting for the chocolate, she asked, "How's Emma?"

Her inquiry startled him a little, and not wanting to give too much away, he questioned coolly, "Why do you ask?"

Ruby looked at him funny; she could sense the change in his demeanor from the last time she'd seen him. He seemed anxious about something, she could almost smell a little fear oozing out of his pores. "She's been tired lately, and ordering beef every time she comes in. I wondered if she wasn't feeling well."

Killian recognized the concern in Ruby's face and voice, and detected nothing sinister about her behavior. However, to someone who had lived as long as he had, the knowledge of the lack of control of werewolves once in their beastly form was not lost on him. "Emma was hospitalized last week for severe anemia and it's possible that her body hasn't fully recovered yet."

"Ahhh, that would explain the scent of blood on her every time she comes in." Ruby's eyes glassed over for a minute while she thought back to Emma's last few visits.

"Blood?" The sound of that word related to Emma sent shivers down his spine, especially considering that he was talking to a werewolf. He took the hot chocolates from her, suppressing a shudder at the memory of his nightmare.

Smiling again and back to her usual happy self, Ruby said, "It's probably nothing. Just keep an eye on her for me, would you?"

Trying not to read anything into her comment, Killian nodded and walked out, heading to the station.

Emma sat at her desk, tired and headachy, reading the report David had completed the day before. He had already told her that the tanner appeared to be missing, but nothing was confirmed. She looked off in the distance, thinking about the sudden increase in missing persons.

At the sound of the door, Emma looked up to see Killian walk in, holding two paper cups awkwardly with his hand and his hook. He grinned at her, so hopeful and sweet. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him and she stood up. "Here, let me help." Taking one of the cups, she asked, "What's this?"

"A hot chocolate, whipped cream and cinnamon, scorching hot like you are," he winked at her, and bent over to place a relaxed kiss on her lips. He wouldn't burden her with his thoughts just yet; he'd save that for later.

She had never had someone consider her the way he always seemed to. She smiled up at him, "I can't think of anything better right now." The chocolate would soothe her head and ease the fatigue that was sapping her energy.

"You can't think of _anything_ better?" He smirked, and she matched his expression.

She put her chocolate down, sidled up to him and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, inches from his face. "Well, maybe I can. What did you have in mind, Pirate?" Her eyes didn't leave him, slowly raking his body in his light washed jeans that hugged his slim hips, and the blue shirt that complemented his gorgeous eyes, making them impossibly blue in the sunlight filtering through the windows.

Liking her proximity, he retorted, "I came by to ask if you were free for the evening. It turns out that I'm free, and I thought that if you were free, maybe we could be free together." He wiggled his brows up and down, grinning.

For some reason, the way he said it made her think of naked people getting into all sorts of debauched activities. Laughing at the thought, she said, "I have Henry tonight, so maybe you'd like to join us for a movie later?"

"Is that a yes… then?" he asked hopefully, the slight hitch in his voice belying his heavy thoughts. He supposed he'd be able to talk with her after the lad was in bed.

She smiled. "Yes. It's a yes."

He stepped back and took her hand, placing a carnal kiss on top of it, holding her gaze while he was bent over her. "Then I will await our time together with baited breath." His voice was calm and smooth, his eyes shining with mischief, and although Emma's breath caught at his steamy gestures, she sensed there was something he wasn't sharing with her.

She watched him walk out of the station, wondering what was on his mind, the butterflies in her stomach dancing at his retreating back.

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David and Mary Margaret parked their car at the edge of the forest, took their backpacks out of the trunk and found a trail leading off into the shaded woods. A storm was brewing overhead, concealing the sky in gray clouds that loomed just above the tree line, but that didn't discourage them, just as it hadn't stopped them in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago. They had never followed this trail before, and were eager to see what they might find.

Hand in hand, they began their trek.

It wasn't long before Mary Margaret broke the silence. "I think I'm really starting to like Hook. I can't get it out of my head the way they were playing in the kitchen the other morning. I mean, have you ever seen Emma play?"

"It's Killian now. And no, I've never seen Emma relaxed enough to play. It's been one traumatic event after another since she came back, and I don't think she's had time to 'let her hair down' so to speak."

"Killian, huh?" Her eyes were trained on the forest floor, observing the rough path beneath her feet.

"I talked with him on the way out to Mr. Stacey's. I haven't had the chance to share with you what he said."

Attentive, Mary Margaret leaned in closely, waiting for David to continue. They came up to a log, and David jumped up and over, lending his hand to his wife as she did the same, the humidity making everything a bit damp and slippery. Mary Margaret missed her footing and stumbled into her strong husband's arms, his sturdy chest preventing her fall. Chuckling at her clumsiness, she said, "I'm all ears. What did Hook… uh, Killian say?"

Wrapping his arms tightly around her and then gently kissing her lips, he pulled back with a smile, taking her hand again as they forged on. "He wants to live down his fearsome reputation and marry her eventually."

Mary Margaret's eyes rounded at that piece of information. "Really? I guess I never pictured their relationship that far ahead."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," David deadpanned. The sounds of the nearby thunderstorm echoed through the forest.

"But we're the monarchs of the kingdom. What happens if we go back and Emma is betrothed or even married to Captain Hook? Our subjects won't like it." Mary Margaret pursed her lips, considering the implications.

"I know. I've been thinking about it since he told me, and I haven't figured out how to reconcile it. All I do know is that I like Killian with Emma. They seem right somehow."

"I suppose it's the true love. And you know nothing would have stopped us from being together, so I imagine they will fight the same way we did. Like it or not, our people will just have to get used to it." Mary Margaret was accustomed to making a decision and sticking by it, regardless of the approval of her kingdom. But she was also accustomed to making decisions that her kingdom usually approved.

"It all may depend on how long we stay in Storybrooke too. If Emma and Killian were to get married here, I can't see the people in town objecting to it. It's those who escaped the curse that could cause a problem, expectations and appearances and all. A princess is expected to marry her own kind, not a pirate."

"Maybe we won't have to worry about any of that. And of course if he's Emma's husband, we will protect him with all the resources at our disposal. He would have to change his title perhaps, maybe give up his hook in order to put that life behind him."

Just then, David looked up, noticing a flock of vultures flying above a spot nearby, jet black against the graying sky beyond. He knew they were close to a few houses, and decided to investigate in case someone was hurt. There were wild bears and pigs, as well as deer and moose in the area that could cause quite a bit of damage.

He pointed ahead and Mary Margaret quietly nodded, following him to inspect what was drawing the birds.

The typical forest noises became eerily quiet the closer they trod, the squawking of the circling buzzards above the only sound breaking through the dampened stillness. A gust of wind from the approaching storm tore through the path, jerking the hem of Mary Margaret's coat. She shivered with the cold, noticing the sky dim as the clouds above darkened perceptibly. The dark scavengers flew low, tracing an almost perfect circle around a two-story home just up ahead, shouting hungrily and taking turns diving below.

Dragging Mary Margaret behind him, David jogged into the yard of the targeted home, unfamiliar to him, and called out, "Hello, is anyone home?"

There was no answer except the sound of mewing cats and the quiet rhythm of large wings beating above their heads. The sky crackled with light and split into a deafening peal of thunder.

Focusing on the box-shaped house itself, and looking for signs of intrusion, David noticed that it had fallen into disrepair, the paint peeling off in strips to lie disregarded in the bushes around the perimeter. Lace curtains hung in all the windows, some of them hanging crookedly and all of them faded with age.

Walking around to the side of the house, they noted the leaking hose and a gutter pipe that had disconnected from the roof, sticking out at a crazy angle and stuffed with leaves. Their eyes following movement, they looked up to the balcony of the second story, and Mary Margaret turned her face into her hands in horror, having just recognized a woman, dressed in pink and crumpled in an unnatural position, cats everywhere. Some were circling her head and her feet, some lying lazily along the bottom of the railing, some rubbing against her arms and legs, all desperately mewing. David shuddered and put his arms around his wife, kissing her hair in comfort, trying to shield her view somehow, but knowing it was too late, the image burned into his memory as well as hers.

"I need to go up there and see if I can identify her. Will you be alright here for a minute? I promise I won't be gone long." Sometimes, David hated his job.

Mary Margaret nodded, and David easily kicked open the door, splintering the old dried wood. The strong stench of too many animals assaulted his nostrils as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Piles upon piles of newspapers, magazines, books, appliances, knick-knacks and junk littered every surface and floor space he could see. Taking in as many details as he could and searching for signs of an intruder, he suddenly found his feet surrounded by cats rubbing at his legs as he made his way through the dusty, cluttered halls. Carefully making his way to the balcony, he recognized the face and hair of Mable Anderson, lifeless eyes staring into the darkened clouds. She was dead, two marks clearly visible on her neck, the noise from her cats clamorous in the deafening stillness as they nudged their beloved owner with their noses and paws.

Looking out from the balcony, hoping to gain clues to her death, David noticed the broken window in the neighbor's house. He quickly left Mable's, retracing his careful steps through the dark corridors, pursued by the hungry cats who wouldn't cross the threshold to the outside, but whose sounds increased as he left the dim interior. Freed from the clinging creatures, he touched Mary Margaret's shoulder as he passed her, pointing to the shattered glass. She nodded again, glad he was the one investigating this time.

David approached the busted window, peeking within the room beyond it. There was another victim, staring blankly at the wall, head turned toward the window so David could clearly see his face. He was naked. Alarm bells going off in his head, he found the back door and let himself in. David noted the stark contrast to Mable's house. This one was barely furnished, modern and yet cold, empty and lifeless. The few pieces of furniture and floors were covered in dust except for the paths between the main rooms. Entering the young man's dark bedroom, he was assailed with the metallic smell of blood in the air. Leaning over the body, David saw dried droplets of brown blood on his chest, and the same two marks he had seen on Mable's neck. Not sure what to make of it, David went back outside to soothe Mary Margaret.

Placing his arm around his still shaking wife, David pulled out his cell phone, and dialed the morgue. He made arrangements for one of the van drivers to come and help remove the bodies.

"What happened? Who could have done such a thing?" Her crying had subsided and he embraced her as she buried her face in his neck.

"Not who. What." There are bite marks on both of the victims. I think I can guess why Mable is on her balcony; I found binoculars near her body." At Mary Margaret's questioning look, he sighed, "Don't ask. The question is what could have killed them both so quickly that they died where they were?"

No answers in sight, and realizing that their hike was officially over, they sat down on a log locked in each other's embrace to await the truck from the morgue, as a light rain began to blanket the forest, a mere taste of the thunderstorm looming ahead.

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Killian left Emma, feeling the weight of the conversation he wanted to have with her as he traveled toward the hardware store to pick up more sandpaper, paint brushes, and a can of white paint for the interior of the ship. The Jolly Roger always cheered him up, and he looked forward to making her sparkle like the queen of the sea she was. Proud to be captain of such a beautiful vessel, he had earned the right to personalize it with his own special touches. Like the white paint for instance, he loved the cleanliness of white paint, how fresh everything looked with a new coat of it.

Figuring he only had a few more minutes before the rain began to fall, he walked into the hardware store, greeting his friend Daniel, who was behind the counter reading a magazine.

"Good morning, mate."

Looking up from his wildlife article, Daniel greeted, "Hi, Killian, it's good to see you today. What new project are you working on now?"

"I'm about ready to start painting the interior, so I came by for some paint and brushes. I'll also need to restock my sandpaper." He shook his head, chuckling at how much sandpaper he'd used in the last couple of months.

The bell chimed, signaling the arrival of another customer. It was the custodian from the morgue, Killian remembered. He watched as the curious little man approached the counter, a scowl on his face.

"How can I help you today, sir?" Daniel asked cheerily.

"I need a machete and a tarp." He was straight to the point, his voice never wavering.

"Right this way." Daniel led him toward an aisle in the store, Carl's head looking neither to the right, nor to the left.

Killian stood at the counter, waiting for them to return. Something about the custodian caused his hackles to rise. Killian could spot a predator from a mile away, having had many experiences with the lot, and this man was a predator. He was sure of it, as sure as he was of his love for Emma.

As they approached the counter, Carl turned his face toward Killian, remembering him from the night he and the sheriff had found the drunk's corpse. He tipped his head toward the dark-headed man before him, not moving one muscle in his face, only acknowledging Killian's presence.

Killian watched him, never dropping his eyes as the man paid for his purchase and walked out.

Killian finished picking up what he needed, jogging to his ship to outrun the rain, intending to add suspicions about the custodian to the talk he needed to have with Emma.

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	20. Chapter 20

**Hi guys, it's a quick update today for all you awesome followers and reviewers!**

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Chapter 20

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Carl went by Drierson's to pick up his repaired trap as soon as he left the hardware store. Phil was in, and happy to rid himself of a reason to interact with his strange brother-in-law. It didn't take long—Phil wouldn't take money from family—so Carl was back out on the road, heading toward the country fairly soon. The rain had begun to fall, a thick sheet that made visibility nil. Carl cursed his bad luck. The job would be much harder in the atrocious conditions.

Finally arriving at the two houses, he hauled the tarp, machete and plastic bags around to the back of the construction worker's house, the cold rain slipping beneath his collar, the wind chilling him to the bone. He intended to chop the two people into pieces small enough to fit into garbage bags, and then lug the bags one by one to his car. The tarp was to catch any extra mess.

He dropped his purchases to the ground, gazing up to the balcony, noting to his horror that the woman wasn't anywhere in sight. Frantically switching his head back and forth, searching for anything, he distinguished the marks on the ground that indicated someone else had been there. He stretched up to look in the broken window, and sure enough, the man was gone too. He took two deep breaths to calm his racing heart, listening to the water as it drizzled noisily on the plastic, realizing there was nothing he could do about the present situation.

Guessing the bodies had been taken to the morgue, Carl adopted a smile and decided to make use of his scouting day anyway, not bothered about the implications of his part in the crime.

Whistling, the rain muffling his tune, Carl knew Katrina was going to freak, and couldn't wait to see her face when she did.

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Anxious to see his lass, Killian knocked on the door of her apartment in the late afternoon, having waited for the rain to stop before running over. Emma opened the door, planted a quick kiss on his cheek and ushered him in. She took his jacket hurriedly, moving faster than she should be able with such fatigue evident in the dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm afraid our date is going to have to wait. David and Mary Margaret found two bodies while they were on their hike. David wants me to go to the morgue with him tonight so we can talk with the coroner. He's concerned that something may be going on with the missing persons and the deaths of Mable Anderson—she was one of the bodies—you remember her right?" He nodded and she continued, "and now some construction worker." She spoke quickly, like Henry did when he felt excited about something. "I'm going to leave Henry with Mary Margaret tonight.

"Whoa, lass, slow down. You said they found a couple of bodies on their hike?" Killian's eyes narrowed with concern, gently nudging her toward one of the bar stools so she could fill him in.

They sat down facing each other, Henry at the table doing his homework. Looking up from his textbook, he beamed, "Hi Hook! Good to see you today."

"Hello, Henry, nice to see you too, lad." Killian turned his attention back to Emma to avoid getting into a long-winded conversation with the boy just then. He placed his hand on her bouncing knee, stilling it and tracing tender circles, keeping a light contact with her, assuring her of his constant presence and hoping to help her relax some.

Trying to calm her anxious mind and lowering her voice, although Henry was all ears anyway, Emma filled him in. "He said they found Mable Anderson on her balcony, and when David looked out from her position, he noticed a broken window in a neighbor's house. When he looked through the window, he saw a man on his bed. Both were dead."

Killian wore a thoughtful expression. "Does he know how they died?"

"I think he has a theory, but he isn't sharing it with me. Mary Margaret was pretty upset and hasn't come out of her room since she came home. I think she's reading to try and distract herself. David's at the station filling out the reports and trying to identify the construction worker by his address until we get a confirmed identity from the coroner. He'll be by later to pick me up."

Killian did not like the sound of missing persons and two dead people. "I wonder what bloody new menace is threatening our town now?" He looked across the room in annoyance, wondering about David's find and whether or not it had any relation to the nightmare he and Emma shared.

Emma liked the sound of 'our town,' hoping Killian would find a reason to stay, longing for that reason to be her. So far, he was working on his ship, but it was only a matter of time before the repairs were done and he'd be free to go wherever he chose. Placing her hand in his, she spoke sarcastically, "Sounds like just another day in Storybrooke." She was suddenly feeling very tired now that the adrenaline of David's news had worn off, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Did you want to stay for awhile until David gets here?"

"What do you mean 'stay for awhile', love, I plan on accompanying you tonight." He raised his brows at her, his body rigid with resolve. There was no way he was letting his Swan out of his sight until he knew what was going on.

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Carl ambled through the forest, having pushed the thoughts of the events from earlier far to the back of his mind. Katrina's _issues_ were not his. Today, Carl was his own master.

The rain had abated a bit, the dripping of the tree leaves pitter-pattering on the forest floor. Carl outlined a pattern of movements on the ground as he walked, giving the appearance of a stilted dance. He pictured the graceful she-wolf's path and sniffed the air, imagining himself breathing the same air that she would be breathing in a couple of days. The fresh piney scent of the pollen from the trees, the rain having washed everything clean, emptied his head until his thinking was crystal clear. He watched her elegant movements from the back of his mind, playing out on his irises, the way she would leap over the fallen log and then land there… just there… and not see the trap until it was too late… until SNAP!... he'd have her. Slowly turning the corners of his mouth into an evil grin, one that didn't move any other part of his face, he placed the trap in the spot that the wolf was likely to land after clearing the log, covering it with a thick layer of leaves.

He placed the other two traps similarly, in spots that he thought she was likely to roam, along the well-worn paths followed by deer.

Yawning, Carl decided he'd check the traps again tomorrow, in case he wanted to tweak anything. Right now he needed to get home to sleep a couple of hours before work, so he'd have the strength of mind to deal with his nightmare of a boss.

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Katrina awoke that evening feeling better than she had in a couple of weeks. The blood from her two victims the night before still coursed through her veins, wiping out the headache and the low-grade nausea. In fact, she felt much like herself again, healthy and powerful, lucid and determined.

She silently hoped that Carl hadn't botched the job from that morning, ready to clean up his mess if necessary. She was glad her health was back to normal, the last couple of weeks having been hell.

Donning her black slacks and emerald green silk shirt—the one that complemented her whisky colored eyes and red hair—she hopped in her truck, rolling down the windows on the way to work, allowing the wind to caress her cheek and whip her long hair. She pulled into her parking space to see that the grounds looked as well-kept as always, smiling at the caretaker's quick work. She knew she scared him a little bit, but he sure got the job done.

Still smiling, briefcase in hand, Katrina strolled to her office, momentarily poking her head into the main dissecting lab first. Her expression froze on her face, and like the flipping of a coin, instantly turned into rage as she recognized the two bodies lying on the steel tables. Stopping mid-stride, she turned, furious at Carl's neglect.

"Carl!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the empty corridors.

He appeared from one of the rooms off the main lab, biting a hangnail on this thumb. "Yes, mistress." He spoke with indifference, his eyes incapable of hiding a little fear.

Barely able to contain her wrath beneath her carefully composed exterior, she slowly questioned, "Why am I looking at these two corpses? And why haven't they been disposed of properly?" She stepped into the room, calmly placed her briefcase on a chair, and tented her fingers in front of her mouth, gaining her self-control and going into analytical mode to reason a way out of this situation, depending on what Carl told her.

Having arrived at work only half an hour before his boss, Carl had received turn-over from one of the lab workers. "I was told that a deputy and his wife found the bodies on a hike, obviously before I got there. They called the lab for transport, and, well, here we are." He raised one eyebrow, challenging her with his gaze, and wondering what she was going to do about it.

Smoothing down her hair and her shirt, calculating her next move, Katrina walked over to the male victim. A sheet had been placed over his lower half. There was no hiding the marks that were clearly visible on his neck, nor the splatters of brown blood that speckled his nearly hairless chest.

"Oh, and there is one more thing," Carl continued, "the sheriff and deputy are due to arrive shortly to discuss this _finding_ with you." He looked almost triumphant.

Ignoring Carl, Katrina concentrated on easing the fury that again threatened to take hold; she lowered her pulse and her blood pressure, instinctively readying herself for a possible fight or flight. Katrina had done this dance before, had come close to discovery several times, and had always thwarted it. She had no doubt she would do so now, already formulating what she would tell them. Grabbing her brief case, she answered, "Send them to my office when they get here." At that point she looked completely unruffled, as though she hadn't just killed the two people in her lab and was about to be questioned by the police.

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Emma, Killian and David arrived at the morgue a little after 8 pm. Parking on the side of the building, they entered the same door Killian and Emma had entered before, following the long hallway and taking the elevator to the basement. Prepared this time, Emma and Killian put handkerchiefs up to their noses.

Noticing, David asked, "What are those for?" just as the elevator door opened and he stepped out.

Emma and Killian glanced at each other and hung back, amusement on their faces.

Suddenly, David nearly tripped backward, retreating into the open elevator. "Good God, what's that smell?"

Smirking, Killian slapped David's back and echoed the custodian's words, "You get used to it, mate."

Emma chuckled. It was nice to have something to laugh about with the seriousness of the case before them. Taking pity on David, she handed him an extra handkerchief until their noses acclimated to the stench.

They walked into the main lab, Emma leading the way. Carl slithered in front of them, appearing out of nowhere before they could get a good look at the bodies. "Ms. Istrati says she'll see you in her office." Killian's hooded eyes never left the disturbing man, as Carl motioned toward Katrina's office door.

Killian hung back, intending to keep his piercing gaze on the custodian. Something resolute about him in the hardware store earlier making those odd purchases, and two dead bodies had Killian on guard. He wanted to observe Carl around the bodies to see if he revealed any information about his possible involvement. Killian hadn't shared his thoughts with David or Emma yet, mainly because it depended on what he saw, the pirate trusting his own keen eyes and reliable instinct.

Emma and David moved toward Katrina's office. Emma looked back over her shoulder at Killian, who wasn't following them. Their blue and green gazes locked; the silent exchange revealed that he was staying behind.

Katrina stood up at their entry, all smiles. Offering her hand, she greeted, "It's nice to see you again, Miss Swan." Unobtrusively, she scrutinized Emma's face and stance, gleaning any information she could about Emma's current physical state. Disappointed at seeing that Emma only looked tired and a little pale, she pointedly hid the displeasure in her eyes.

"Yes, thank you for seeing us, Ms. Istrati. Allow me to introduce Deputy David Nolan."

David couldn't help being entranced by the beauty before him. She was simply breathtaking the way her eyes shone and her luscious lips stirred with her wonderful accent, her red mane framing her face like a halo. It took him a long second before he put his hand up to shake hers, embarrassed at his faltering.

Katrina shook his hand, silently entertained by the deputy's discomfiture. She gestured to the chairs in front of her desk for them to take a seat. She was uncomfortable knowing Jones was in the main lab, preferring to keep her enemies close, but could do nothing about it at the moment. "How may I be of service to you this evening?"

Sufficiently recovered, David spoke. "We have noticed an increase in missing persons lately, starting with Joe, although he was found, and then Lonnie Anderson. My friend Mr. Stacey is gone too. In the next room, we have two victims with mysterious bite marks on their necks, and I'm worried about a possible infestation of some kind. Do you have any idea what could cause death so quickly?"

At the sound of the words 'bite marks,' Emma quickly turned her head. Bite marks? David hadn't said anything about bite marks.

Remaining calm and appearing helpful, Katrina responded, "Not without a thorough examination of the bodies. What did you have in mind?" Katrina had lived a long time. Many terms had been used to refer to her kind… plague, infestation, pandemic, evil, demon… so many terms and none of them described the superior being that she was. She caught herself just before she sighed with frustration at never being fully appreciated by inferior people.

"Well the bites look like snake bites." David lowered his gaze, thinking back to Regina's poisonous pit vipers that almost bit Henry.

Seeming to consider David's suggestion, Katrina stroked her chin. "It's possible that a snake with extraordinarily poisonous venom caused the death of the two people in the lab, but it wouldn't be a snake from here." At David's questioning brow, she continued, "There are no venomous species of snakes native to the state of Maine."

"Regina had a couple of vipers she brought with her from the Enchanted Forest. Is that possible?" David looked hopeful that he may have helped find the culprit.

"Yes, I suppose it's possible, if they have escaped somehow, or perhaps reproduced. I will autopsy the bodies tonight. There would be traces of the venom in the blood and we could compare it to the venom in Regina's… pets." She sneered when she said Regina and pets.

Emma raised a brow, having listened carefully, and wondering if the coroner also had a jaded past with the queen.

"Well, any information you can give us will be most helpful," David said.

"Of course, I will let you know as soon as I find anything." Katrina stood up, offering her hand again, along with an easy smile.

David shook her hand. "Thank you." Glancing at Emma, who had smiled restlessly as she shook the doctor's hand, they left the room together.

Emma immediately searched out Killian, finding him leaning in the doorway of the lab, one eyebrow raised, absently stroking his hook, and waiting patiently for them.

Killian hadn't taken his eyes off the custodian, who had planted himself at one of the tables between Killian and the corpses, and proceeded to munch on one of his energy bars while reading a magazine. It disturbed Killian beyond measure that someone could eat next to the dead, not that he would ever let his agitation show. The custodian had appeared completely unconcerned with the pirate brandishing his hook and staring holes into the side of his head.

"Come on." Emma noticed the daggers in Killian's eyes directed at Carl, not sure what that was all about. They needed to have a conversation about everything, and soon.

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As rapidly as the trio left the building, Katrina clapped her hands in glee. That was too easy! She stood up, sauntered to the main lab, and found Carl sitting at one of the tables with his snack and usual reading material. "Carl."

He looked into her gorgeous face, heartbeat quickening at her nearly affectionate expression.

Sensing that her power over Carl was waning, she decided to strengthen their bond once again and tie him to her indefinitely, binding him body and soul. She stepped closer to him and ran her finger down his cheek, letting it rest on his collar. "It looks like we've gotten a free pass out of this one. Let's not let it happen again."

He licked his suddenly dry lips, unable to control the lust that sprang up at her touch. Her cat-like eyes beckoned him to open his shirt for her. He complied, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his flannel. Placing her fingers on the next button, she very slowly released it, allowing her hand to trail down his chest as she continued unbuttoning his shirt, sending gooseflesh across his entire torso. She straddled his lap, removing his shirt from his shoulders in one fluid motion, and lowered her mouth to his neck, dragging her lips along his collar bone to the puncture wounds.

Carl let his head fall back in ecstasy, shocked at his good fortune that night. He could feel her constant pull on him lessening, replaced by a new sensation so opposed to the submission that turned him into her minion. He wanted to mark her, not to be marked. Feeling bold, Carl began undressing Katrina, covering her neck with his own wet kisses. Her skin was cold and as soft as kid leather under his tongue, and he wanted to stimulate her the way she had always aroused him.

Katrina, blandly enjoying a pleasure she rarely allowed herself, had never consummated her relationship with Carl, preferring to keep things uncomplicated as long as she needed him. But knowing this would all be over soon, and that she wouldn't remember it anyway, she decided to celebrate that night.

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Silent on the drive home from the morgue, each was lost in his own thoughts, David trying to reconcile possible snake bites with the broken window and disappearances, Emma fighting a headache, and Killian unable to speak with Emma while David was present. Emma dropped Killian off at the Jolly Roger, ready for the day to be over. Letting him out of the back seat, he lingered over her hand, his eyes taking in her obvious exhaustion. "How are you feeling, lass?"

"Just really tired." She gave him a tiny smile, although it didn't reach her eyes.

"Right. Try to get some rest, love." His bright blue gaze intensified for just a moment as he took in her pale complexion.

Emma nodded. "I'm off work tomorrow and I have something to show you. Can I pick you up in the morning?"

"As you wish." He tucked a hair behind her ear and kissed her hand, a worried frown etched into his face as he watched her car disappear into the distance. He turned and walked down the pier to his beloved ship, thinking about the two victims and whatever was threatening the small town. As Sheriff, his Swan was naturally going to face this too, all while feeling fatigued from a bad case of anemia.

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night, his dreams restless and disturbed.

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	21. Chapter 21

**Hi all! Here we go again...**

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Chapter 21

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Carl's hairless chest glistened with sweat and heaved as he caught his breath, neither he nor Katrina caring about the cold institutional floor upon which they were lying. When Katrina finished with Carl, she stood up, naked and hovering above him, and surveyed the room, her eyes alighting on the two corpses still resting on the tables.

Carl gazed up at her in rapt admiration, wiping away all traces of his earlier mutiny. But just as quickly as his rebellion fell away, and although he was still infatuated with his alluring boss—especially now as her perfect form rose above him—he couldn't stop an image of another red-head from forming in his mind, her erect body standing over him in the exact same position as Katrina. He shivered in response.

Expressionless, and mistaking his shivering, Katrina carefully dressed herself and donned her lab coat, her minion's eyes burning holes into her skin. Without a further thought of Carl, she began her autopsy procedures, forgoing the gloves as usual so the latex couldn't dull any of the sensations that passed through her fingers as she nipped and cut, removed and weighed.

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Emma had taken off work that day, David having decided to go in early, anxious to read the coroner's report and see if his theory was correct. He still suspected the involvement of someone, snakes didn't break windows, so he thought he would go to Anderson's and Stacey's and back to the scene of yesterday's crime to check for fingerprints. He planned to catch up with Emma later and share any findings.

Emma dressed slowly, thankful for a full night of sleep and no nightmare. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was already after 10 am. Eating a bit of leftover steak from supper the night before, she grabbed her sunglasses, and left to get Killian.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted as he stepped into the car. He had been waiting at the end of the pier for her, enjoying the bright sunshine, dressed in his jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, his gloved hand firmly in place.

She turned toward him with a smile, removing her sunglasses and squinting for a second, as he gently touched her cheek. She was so glad to see him, his strong and relaxed stance doing much to calm her after the events of the day before. She kissed him lightly on the lips, resting her forehead against his for a moment, just breathing him in. "Good morning, Pirate."

He kissed her again, slowly and carefully. "So what do you have planned for us today, lass?"

"You'll see." She smiled easily, excited to show him her new place.

About two minutes later, Emma pulled into the driveway of a small cottage, surrounded by other such cottages on the quiet street. "This is it, our new home."

His whole body twitched, a dreamy expression of hope and joy playing across his features. Was it possible she had included him in her statement of 'our new home'? Was it possible he would be invited to see her and worship her every single day?

She quickly amended, "Uh, mine and Henry's," and glanced at him under her lashes. Their relationship hadn't moved _that_ far ahead, although she hadn't missed the slight disappointment on his face at her correction, how the joy quickly vanished to be replaced by a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Despite the jolt of pain that his discomfort sent through her, Emma couldn't take that step just yet; she needed time on her own, with her son, to form real memories, a real bond.

They stepped out of the car and onto the front lawn of the little white house with purple trim, a front porch with a swing on one end of it. It looked like a cottage out of a story book, which was fitting considering where they lived.

As Emma placed her key in the door to unlock it, Killian took her by the hand, turning her around to face him. "Why didn't you tell me, lass?" He spoke quietly, eyes down, playing with her fingers and trying to hide how much it hurt him to play second fiddle to Baelfire. He grasped very clearly who he was, Killian 'Hook' Jones, not the best example for her lad. He loved her with everything he had, and he was sure she loved him back, but he also understood that it was bad form for him to keep her apart from the lad's father.

"Tell you what?" Emma was confused by his obvious dismay, and she wondered if this was what he had wanted to discuss with her yesterday.

"About shopping for a home with Bae." He looked up at her, and before she could respond, he spoke quietly, tucking a strand of hair over her shoulder with his gloved hand. "Emma, I would never interfere between you and the family you've always deserved. You, Henry and Bae… are family, and I'm an outsider… humph… a pirate with a past. I can't just be your lover and nothing more, so if there's any chance you want a future with him, for Henry's sake, I'll step out of the way. I don't want another family to break apart on account of me."

Emma had no idea that her slip-up had hurt Killian so much. It had been so long since her actions affected someone else that it didn't even occur to her to let Killian know what she was doing, and with whom. Hell, she was still trying to get used to telling David and Mary Margaret when she was going to be home, finally realizing that it was out of consideration for the people who lived with her, and not that they wanted to control her life. Emma was self-sufficient, making her own decisions as soon as she was free from the foster care system that enslaved her. She had never been able to trust anyone she dated, wouldn't allow herself after Neal's betrayal.

But in that moment listening to Killian, seeing his blue eyes shining with emotion and insecurity, his reassuring but sad smile telling her that she could throw him away and that he would respect and understand her, she realized that she was really going to do this with him. A relationship… a future… and that would mean relying on him for a change, on considering how he might feel if she hung around Neal, or how he might feel about Henry.

"I'm sorry," she pleaded. His pain became her pain, and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "I didn't… think. This is all so new for me… that you care… I don't want anything with Neal. We'll always share Henry, and I'd like to stay friends with him, but… but I can't go back to being with him. There are going to be times we interact, because of Henry, or because I'm renting this house from him, but you have nothing to worry about… I want you… I want to do this with you." She leaned into him, his arms encircling her waist and his chin resting on her head.

Emma's words caused Killian's heart to skip a beat. He could read that she hadn't done it on purpose, and she wasn't intentionally hiding anything from him. She wasn't searching for a place to call home without him, with another man. "Oh, lass, I love you." He squeezed her tighter, feeling a strong protectiveness fill his body, for her, for them, and for their future.

"I love you too," she choked. Then she smiled up at him. "Besides, I already told him about us."

"You did?" Killian closed his eyes for a minute as that piece of information registered in his mind. Emma really had chosen him, and he wondered how long he would feel surprised and undeserving of her love.

"Aye," she whispered, and then leaned up to kiss him.

He captured her lips with his, twining his fingers with hers and tightening his hold on her back. The length of his body was pressed against her, and the tension grew as she found his tongue with her own, pouring her apology into her kiss. Killian accepted her apology, groaning in the back of his throat as she deepened the kiss. "Let's go inside," he panted against her mouth.

Pulling away from him a little, allowing him to hold her from behind, she opened the door, and led him in. "Let me show you around first."

"And after?" He whispered into her ear and bit her earlobe to punctuate his intentions, trying to fall back into their usual playful relationship, pushing aside the doubts that still lingered in his mind.

"There's no furniture. Although I doubt that would stop you." She shook her head, glancing over her shoulder at her insatiable pirate, who grinned in response.

"I'd never notice with you beneath me, love."

Emma rolled her eyes and swept her hand around. "Well, this is it."

"I certainly like the location." She was within walking distance of his ship; that alone making the place perfect for his tastes. He couldn't live with her, but he could live near her. It would suffice.

She smiled at him, and took his hand to show him the two bedrooms toward the back. "Look." She pointed out the window of the bedroom she had chosen. At just the right angle, she could barely make out the mast of the Jolly Roger.

He squinted and followed her gaze, reaching across to drag her to him when he realized she had actually picked that bedroom because of its view, even though the other was slightly larger. All his worries about her relationship with Neal quickly evaporated.

Her heartbeat thumped loudly at his expression as his hand caressed her cheek, his blue eyes shining with emotion. She couldn't know that he was picturing a life with her, in that little house, aching to do more than just court her. He brushed his thumb across her mouth, following the touch with his lips. He wanted to touch her always, everyday for the rest of his life.

Emma leaned into his hand, his kiss energizing her as she wrapped her hands around his neck, and into his thick hair, tugging him closer.

He enveloped her in his embrace, just kissing her, tasting her, breathing her in like a tonic for a dying man.

Breaking the kiss with a smile, she stepped back from him, "I didn't have a chance to ask you yesterday because of the case we're working on, but the furniture is due to arrive tomorrow. Do you feel like helping set it up? David and Mary Margaret will be here, and Mary Margaret is going to help me cook something for our first meal."

"Aye." He turned his face away, pretending to study the layout of the room, full of emotion at the chance to be part of this new chapter of her life. When he turned back around, he had his usual cocky expression on his face. "I think my services will deserve more than just a meal." His lips turned up at the corners and he lowered his chin to look at her through the tops of his lashes.

She'd seen that look many times before, the one that had charmed the pants off her on more than one occasion. "We'll see," she whispered.

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Carl had stayed on the cold floor of the morgue for a long time after Katrina had turned her attention to the corpses. The biting chill seeped into his bones and froze his innards with a depressing grip. Forgotten and alone once again, he took his time dressing, watching Katrina's calculated movements out of the corners of his eyes. Intent on remaining near her, if only to serve as a reminder of what had just happened, he sat back down at his table and proceeded to finish reading his magazine, his mind focused elsewhere.

Katrina had finally turned her regard on him, completely and fully, exacting more from his body than her thirst had ever insinuated. Yet the experience left him somewhat dissatisfied. She hadn't screamed, she hadn't begged for release, she hadn't cried for him to stop, her eyes had held no fear, her limbs hadn't trembled from overwhelming sensations of pain mixed with pleasure.

The lure that threatened to pull him back under her spell was palpable—a cloud that encircled him in seduction—but something was off. He had never been aware of it before, had never seen it for what it was, and recognizing it gave him the confidence to deny its appeal.

That night was the full moon, the night he was going after the she-wolf, the perfect predator, pitting his tracking skills against hers. He would need his rest and he would need to eat more than an energy bar. Checking the time, noting that it was too late for the breakfast crowd and too early for lunch, Carl decided to pay a visit to the diner for breakfast. Perhaps his new favorite redhead would be serving again.

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Walking back out into the main room of her new home, Emma pinched the bridge of her nose and put her sunglasses back on, the glare from all the windows bothering her eyes now that the sun had shifted.

Killian noticed her discomfort. He placed his hand on her lower back, concerned. "What's wrong, lass?"

"Nothing serious, just feeling a little tired and headachy, and the glare in here his awfully bright. I'll need to get curtains or blinds on these windows soon," she tentatively smiled so he'd know she was ok.

"Emma, are you having the same symptoms as before? Maybe you should go see Dr. Whale."

"I am, but it's milder this time. I called him and he told me there wasn't much for me to do except rest and eat extra protein, which is not a problem since that seems to be all I want to eat these days. He also gave me some iron pills."

"Iron pills? As in iron the metal?" Killian's brows furrowed together as he tried to imagine how she was supposed to consume iron, picturing an anvil and a stack of iron tools. What could they possibly have to do with her anemia?

"Iron the element."

He still looked confused, so she continued, "It's a necessary mineral for replenishing blood."

He nodded his head with both brows up, and decided he wasn't ever going to understand, but figured it didn't matter at the moment.

"Dr. Whale said it might take awhile for my body to heal itself, and that I should just go about my everyday duties, taking it easy as much as possible. He told me to come back in if I passed out or anything like that, and I'm _not_ close to passing out again." She was a little worried about the anemia, and it was hell feeling tired all the time when she was expected to fight crime and fill out loads of paperwork.

"I understand, lass." Killian placed his gloved hand on her arm to comfort her, looking down where it rested. "I hate this thing."

Emma looked into his face. "Why?"

"Because I can't feel anything through it." He sighed heavily.

"You wear your hook with no trouble." She looked into his sad eyes, curious about what he was going to say.

"When I wear my hook, it's because I don't _want_ to feel anything."

She was the reason he wanted to feel again. Emma inhaled deeply; the realization transmitted a smile throughout her features, and she was overcome with an urge to invite him to move in with her, to make a new life with her. She could clearly see the man underneath Captain Hook, the devoted, attentive, affectionate man he had let her see long before anyone else. And she didn't want to leave his side.

She kissed him lightly to break the tension, and then asked, "Hey, I know this is off the subject, but I wanted to ask you something. Last night, why did you stay in the main lab of the morgue instead of talking with the coroner?"

Killian sighed deeply, glad she had changed the conversation. "There's not much to go on, but that custodian is strange, and I wanted to keep an eye on him. Yesterday morning, I happened to be in the hardware store at the same time he was there, purchasing a machete and a tarp, an odd expression on his face. When the two corpses presented themselves, I wondered if he had anything to do with it."

"Or perhaps his disposal was interrupted." Emma stroked her chin thoughtfully. "How did he behave around the bodies then?"

"Well, he kept them shielded from my view. He just sat stock-still and quiet, reading and eating without interest. I'd say he seemed too calm."

"We need to tell David about this."

"Aye. I agree."

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Carl walked into Granny's with a cool expression on his face, wearing his flannel shirt and flat front slacks. His dark hair was pushed away from his face with some kind of wax, giving it the appearance of being wet. It had been his attempt at fixing his hair after his early morning activities, trying to look as stylish as possible. He failed, only managing to look even creepier.

Ruby walked from the kitchen area and stopped mid-stride at the arrival of the customer. How could she forget his leering face and the way he gawked at her with his hooded eyes? She had hoped to never see him again; he frightened her a little.

Adopting her usual smile, although it didn't quite reach her eyes, Ruby walked behind the counter to make another pot of coffee. Carl had been standing in the doorway the entire time, just watching her, regarding her the way a physician would examine a patient. He could tell she was frightened, could see it in the line of her body and the way her shoulders tensed. He smiled at the reaction and moved to sit in the same spot he had chosen before.

"What can I get for you this morning?" Ruby asked with as much cheer as she could muster, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the scents that attacked her with his proximity, a mixture of chemicals and blood, so much blood, both animal and human.

"What's _your_ favorite breakfast?" He spoke in a low tone, drawing out the 'your' with extra emphasis.

Ruby's skin crawled and she was glad that today was her transformation day. "I like the waffles with extra bacon."

"Then I'll have _you_… I mean, what you like." He stared at her, glared at her, as if he did in fact mean to have her for breakfast.

Ruby shuddered again, at the covetousness of his words. She'd never had anyone threaten her before; most people knew what she was and gave her a wide berth. This man obviously didn't know or didn't care, a really disturbing thought. She turned away from him and placed his order, already knowing where she would go that night.

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Killian and Emma sat on the floor of her living room, empty boxes of food from Granny's in front of them, enjoying the view from the windows and a light conversation.

The Jolly has several crates of furnishings in the hold. You could glance through them if you like. I know there are a couple of gilded mirrors that would fit your taste, brocaded pillows, tapestries, silk rugs…"

"Whoa there, Pirate. Are these stolen items?"

Killian shrugged his shoulders. "Let's just call them borrowed."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Borrowed, huh? Well, I'm not trying to make the place look like an Indian brothel."

"But I quite like the idea of a brothel in Storybrooke," he winked.

"You would!" She punched his arm, grinning widely.

Gathering her into his lap, he wrapped his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "Actually, I don't need an entire brothel; I'd only visit _one_ lass anyway." She sat in between his legs, her back up against his chest. Killian's arms tightened around her, and he buried his face in her hair, before trailing his lips to her collar bone. Emma let her head fall back, allowing him better access as his hand moved up her body from her stomach to her neck.

They both flushed simultaneously, remembering the last time they were in this position, in a very realistic daydream.

"Killian!" She gasped at the memory.

He lifted his head lazily, as if waking from a dream. "What is it, lass?"

"Does this feel familiar to you? I remember this with you. I was sitting in my chair at work, and I could feel you there with me." She turned to the side so she could view his face.

Shaking his head to clear the desire that had taken hold, he answered, "Aye, now that you mention it. I was sitting on the foredeck taking a break when I felt you in my lap." He smiled roguishly with the memory of the smoothness of her skin and her hair curling down her back. He shifted, his body responding in kind.

"Weird. I've been meaning to ask if we were sharing more than just the nightmare."

"It would appear so. Although, I must declare I prefer the daytime visions." He nipped her ear and held her tightly against him. She rested her head back on his shoulder.

After a few minutes of silence, Killian finally decided to broach the subject of Ruby. "Emma, there's an issue we need to discuss."

Wondering what had made him so serious all of a sudden, Emma turned her head at his solemn tone. "What is it?"

"Tonight is the full moon." He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath before opening them again.

Emma looked forward again. "Yeah, so?"

"So we've both been dreaming about a wolf attacking you the past few weeks." He wouldn't say more, the memory of the dream too disturbing for him to recount.

"Wait, you don't think that Ruby…"

"I honestly don't know. I'm just cautious." He wouldn't tell her that he couldn't bear to lose her. Milah had died so tragically and so quickly, no warning. One day she was his and the next she was gone.

"Well I trust her." Emma crossed her arms over her chest.

Killian figured she wouldn't see the threat for what it was. "This is just my way of saying that I'm not letting you out of my sight for the next twenty-four hours."

He said it forthrightly, possessively, and Emma looked over at him in awe, an intensity in his vivid blue eyes that hadn't been there before. Her mouth turned up into a timid smile. Feeling protected, she leaned into him, and quietly said, "Good."

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**Thanks again to all you lovelies who always leave a review. Your encouraging words make my day! To Nouqueret: I have another story in mind, no vampires this time, but it may take me awhile to flesh out. I want to do it justice. ;D**


	22. Chapter 22

**Love to all you guys reading, following and reviewing! Enjoy!**

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Chapter 22

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Carl awoke in Katrina's former guest bed, the tall posts at the corners standing sentinel in the sparsely furnished room. He hadn't added or removed any items that would mark the space as his own. The only indication that he lived there was the closet that held four flannel shirts, two pairs of jeans, and two pairs of shoes—one pair for hiking and one for work. Refreshed from his heavy breakfast and long sleep, Carl stretched lazily, clearing his mind of all thought for just a few minutes before checking the time. The shadows were just beginning to lengthen, and he found himself eagerly awaiting the night. Showering slowly, carefully washing every part of his body twice, he readied himself for his encounter with the she-wolf the way one would prepare for a date. He combed his hair back off his face and dressed himself in plain black slacks, a black button down shirt and black tie. He wore his black combat boots to complete the look, the perfect attire for rendezvous with the shadows.

He hadn't had a chance to check his traps, having decided instead to go to the diner and rest. He planned on staying in the forest that night, roaming between his three traps, tracking the she-wolf's movements, and repositioning the traps if necessary. He wanted to witness her capture, hear her growls of frustration at being defeated.

Loading his backpack of carefully chosen tools and his plastic apron and gloves, Carl drove to the forest for the long night ahead, butterflies of anticipation floating around in his stomach.

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Ruby couldn't wait to get out of the diner that night. She always left early on the full moon, Granny knowing better than to stop her. It was the one night of the month she looked forward to more than anything, even more than her nights with Dr. Whale, Victor now, she thought with a grin. She truly was a child of the moon, loving the swiftness of her feet as she raced through the fallen leaves and branches, the ease with which her lithe form leapt over any obstacles in her path. On these nights she was truly free.

Racing out the back door of the bed and breakfast, she transformed as she ran, howling in glee as the night welcomed her with open arms. Picking up the scent of chemicals and blood, she followed her nose into the depths of the forest.

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Killian was true to his word about not letting Emma out of his sight. They spent the afternoon together, Killian taking her by the hardware store that wasn't far from her new house so he could introduce her to his friend Daniel Albright, a man of age and experience who could tell a lively tale as well as Killian. Daniel had been pleased to see such a nice young man with such a nice young woman; it reminded him of his own wife who had passed away only the year before.

Emma walked hand in hand with Killian, silently wondering if that's what couples did, to introduce each other to their friends, to chat and hold hands. She felt very comfortable with her pirate, and the more she was around him, the more she didn't want to leave his side. It hadn't been hard to convince her when he said he was staying with her for the entire day and night.

They drove back to the apartment late that afternoon, hungry from their wanderings and interested to hear what David had found. Letting herself in, Mary Margaret was in the kitchen and Henry was at the table reading a book.

"Oh, Emma, I'm glad you're here." Mary Margaret looked up from the dish she was stirring, wiped her hands on her apron, and noticed Killian. "Oh! Hi… Killian." Mary Margaret tested the name on her lips, her expression doubtful until switching to one of acceptance. She nodded.

Henry glanced up from his book, "Hi, Mom. Hook!"

Killian bowed a little and winked, "Your majesty," then turned to Henry, "Greetings, lad."

Mary Margaret waved her hand, "No need for that. Will you join us for supper?"

"I can't think of anything better right now." He echoed Emma's words from the day before, throwing a quick nudge into her side.

Henry patted the seat next to him and Killian went to sit by her son.

Emma grinned at them and took his coat hanging it next to hers on the rack. "That smells good. What are you fixing?"

"Just a simple vegetable soup to go with the fresh bread already in the oven. Do you mind helping a bit?" Mary Margaret silently prayed that Emma would accept her invitation. She had missed all these mother-daughter moments and cherished each one that presented itself.

Emma raised her brows, surprised by her mother's invitation. But seeing that Killian was otherwise engaged with Henry—discussing his story book—she agreed and made her way to the kitchen.

"You know I don't know how to cook." Emma's skepticism indicated that she didn't even think she was teachable.

"I know, I just thought I could show you a couple of things now that you're going to be living on your own."

"I did live on my own for about 11 years before I came to Storybrooke, you know." Emma pulled a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water, sipping it as she watched her mother.

"But you didn't cook."

"No, I never had a reason to."

"Well, now you do have a reason." Mary Margaret pointed toward the table, and Emma couldn't tell if she was indicating Henry or Killian, or maybe both, with the sweep of her hand.

Emma narrowed her eyes and turned up the corners of her mouth at her mother, amused. "Ok, what do you have for me, _Mom_."

Mary Margaret smiled brightly. "Let's start with the basics, reading a recipe. A recipe is like a blueprint. You just follow the instructions exactly as they're written."

Emma looked at the card Mary Margaret handed her. "What's sauté?" Emma groaned. "How am I going to follow a recipe if I don't even know what the terms mean?"

"Here, I'll show you." Mary Margaret took a little butter in the bottom of a skillet and added some chopped onions. "Sauté is just letting them cook in the butter, stirring them so they don't stick." She couldn't believe she was getting this chance with Emma. Teaching her to cook was a dream come true. She handed the wooden spoon to Emma.

"Can't I just order take-out?" Emma complained.

Mary Margaret looked at her with her teacher's expression that said Emma was not getting away with it. "Every night? You have a son now. He can't eat food from the diner every night. You have to learn something in the kitchen. You have to focus."

Emma chuckled at how seriously her mother was taking this. "Ok, I'll focus. Now what?"

As they worked through the rest of the recipe, Henry asked Killian a dozen questions about his background, including the first time Killian had traveled to Neverland. Killian good naturedly answered his questions, telling tale after tale until supper was ready and David walked in the door.

David, Mary Margaret, Henry, Killian and Emma ate a nice meal, and settled down to watch a moving picture as Killian called it. Emma couldn't help but think how odd it was being so close to Killian, her family all around, aching to touch him, but reluctant to with Henry sitting on the other side of her. Killian took her hand in his, absently rubbing his thumb over her palm as he stared at the screen. She looked down at their hands, marveling yet again at how well he could read her, since it's just what she needed to feel at ease again.

Henry fell asleep before the movie was over, so everyone tiptoed to the dining room to talk about what David had discovered earlier that day.

Keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Henry, David began. "I went by Mr. Stacey's first because the door had been left ajar," he looked over at Killian who nodded, "and I thought I might dust for fingerprints. Then I went to Anderson's and checked all the windows and doors from the outside. One of them had a busted latch, so that's the one I dusted. I did the same at Mable's and John Stanton's, that's the name of the male victim. I took fingerprints from all the houses and I've uploaded them into the database—it appears Regina was very thorough when she cast the curse—and I'm waiting for the results. Our computer system is antiquated, so that's what's taking so long. Then I went by Neal's to ask to look over his tenants' records to see if anyone has recently stopped paying rent. I fear the missing person list may actually be larger than we thought and there's no way of knowing how long this has been going on. Neal is going to pull everything and I'll go over there tomorrow."

"You haven't forgotten that we're moving Emma tomorrow, have you?" Mary Margaret admonished. She hated when he had to work weekends.

David lovingly smiled at her. "No, I haven't forgotten. We'll get the furniture moved in the morning, and then I'm meeting Neal after lunch."

They were quiet for a few minutes as they all digested his information.

Emma spoke next. "Killian said Carl was acting strangely yesterday."

David perked up and looked over at Killian, curious about any clues that might lead him to who was controlling the snakes.

"I encountered him at the hardware store yesterday morning buying a machete and a tarp, which coincides with the timing of the bodies you found."

David scratched his chin, thinking the same thing Emma had, "Very interesting. Maybe his disposal was interrupted. I'd be curious to see just whose fingerprints turn up."

"Have you spoken with Regina about the vipers yet?" Emma asked.

Just then, Henry padded into the dining room, yawning. "Is the movie over already?"

Emma smiled, "Yeah, kid, we were trying to keep our voices down so we didn't wake you. Do you want a glass of warm milk?" He nodded and she stood up, ruffling his hair before moving to the kitchen.

Killian watched his Swan with her son, a strange smile on his face in spite of the serious discussion they'd just been having.

Figuring the conversation was over for now, especially since they didn't want to talk in front of Henry, David and Mary Margaret hugged their daughter and grandson.

"Goodnight, guys." Emma quietly told her parents as they left the room, silently mouthing that they'd talk tomorrow.

Mary Margaret gave a somber nod at Emma, then brightened, "Goodnight. We'll see you tomorrow, Killian, for moving day." Despite everything going on, Mary Margaret looked forward to setting up Emma's new place, decorating and arranging her furnishings, and letting the move distract her from the images of the pink-clad corpse that flashed into her mind at the most inopportune times. She was certain to get many mother-daughter moments picking out drapes and knick knacks and such to make the place a real home.

"Aye, that you will." He smiled back at her, and lifted his hand in farewell.

Henry drank his milk and plopped back down on the sofa, assuming his earlier position and instantly falling asleep again as though he hadn't gotten up.

Smiling down at her son, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead and moved a lock of hair away from his eyes. Killian watched her gentle fingers on her son, love glistening in her eyes and expression. He wanted to hold that moment in his pocket, a sweet image he could pull out on lonely days, longing for her family to be his. She was a wonderful mother, even if she often lacked confidence in herself.

Emma straightened in front of Killian, eyeing him, trying to figure out where to put him. No one knew he had planned to stay the night, and she wanted to keep it that way if possible.

She whispered, "Come on, Pirate, you can sleep on the floor of my room."

Killian raised his brows. "On the floor, love? But that's so uncivilized."

"Shhh." She started walking upstairs. "Yeah, because your actions consistently speak of civility." Emma rolled her eyes and Killian followed eagerly behind, his hand coming to rest on the base of her spine, slowly moving downward to cup her ass. She swatted his hand away and turned around to point at him. "Behave," she whispered with a penetrating expression.

Killian merely grinned and shrugged his shoulders in mock innocence.

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Exhilarated, Ruby howled at the moon, paying homage to the silvery orb that rescued her each month from her ordinary life. She had easily picked up the trail of the aromatic little man, following his scent from when he had left the diner earlier, no fear in any part of her body now that she had the upper hand. She traced the route he had driven down a country road, then stopped as she picked up his scent nearer to where she was now, turning her face toward the forest. His odor mingled with the scents of the forest and it suddenly dawned on her that she had smelled him before, the last time she had roamed. She hadn't known who he was then, distracted by her own wandering and having no reason to check him out. But she knew now.

Chasing her nose that led her as surely as a beacon on a clear night, she raced deep into the forest, legs pounding the ground as she stretched them as far as they could go. Her blood roared through her muscles, fervent excitement pumping through her limbs at the thought of finding the little man at a disadvantage this time. She wouldn't hurt him, but she planned to _educate_ him on just who he had provoked.

Her breath came in short but deep puffs. The air was clear and wet, which lessened the strength of the scent she was following, although not enough to throw her off the trail.

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Gently closing the door to her bedroom, Emma turned on the bedside lamp and sat on the edge of the bed to take off her boots. She handed Killian a pair of David's sweatpants that she'd snagged from the laundry earlier, ignoring his 'I'd rather sleep naked, love' and subsequent eyebrow dance, and stepped into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

A few seconds later, shirtless with the sweatpants hanging off his slim hips, Killian came up behind her, face filled with horror as he gaped at the foam around her mouth, thinking of drownings and poisonings… not good news. After a few seconds, catching her confused expression, he realized she was fine and his worry turned to fascination.

Emma kept brushing, perplexed by the emotions she had witnessed across his face through the mirror and feeling slightly uncomfortable because she'd never brushed her teeth in front of anyone before, not even Neal. She had always closed the door. It felt strangely intimate to have him standing so close while she readied herself for bed.

Rinsing her mouth, Killian gathered up her hair in his hands, keeping it well away from the water. She stood up smiling and put her toothbrush back on the holder.

Moving his hand to her back, Killian asked, "What's the lathery substance? It doesn't smell like soap."

"Toothpaste. It makes your mouth minty fresh." For effect she leaned in and breathed on him.

He closed his eyes and inhaled the sharp scent of peppermint. "Mmmm… I like it."

"Did you want to try? I have a spare toothbrush." She started fumbling in a drawer, and produced a packaged toothbrush that she quickly unwrapped for him.

Accustomed to chewed twigs, bits of string and toothpicks, Killian nodded and accepted the toothbrush. He held it at an odd angle and looked back up at Emma.

Smiling, and not quite believing she was doing this, she put the toothpaste on the end of the brush and handed it back to him. He began brushing, back and forth, his eyes widening at the strong flavor of sweet mint.

He rinsed and then looked up at Emma in wonder. "Excellent!" He ran his tongue over his teeth, and then exhaled in Emma's face.

She chuckled at him, and placed her hands on his chest. "Let's go to bed, Pirate. I don't imagine I'm going to convince you to sleep on the floor now."

Smirking, he murmured, "No, love, I've always been quite determined on that point." Gauging her reaction, he leaned into her where she could feel the beginnings of his determination on the side of her hip.

With an eye roll and a shake of her head, she turned away from him while he moved to sit on the bed, and unbuttoned her jeans, shimmying out of them and intending to pull on the pair of flannel pants she had draped over the chair.

Killian scrutinized her every move, his blue gaze following the top line of her trousers as they skimmed down her long and lovely legs, sensually licking his lips. His eyes stared longingly at her perfection, but his mouth held a playful smirk in place as he imagined himself situated between those legs. Then his face fell and his smile disappeared into a tight-lipped grimace. He growled in a mixture of shock and anger. "Emma!"

"What is it?" She knew he had been ogling her ass; she'd done it on purpose just to torture him a little bit, she thought with a grin. Although she was playing with fire, and fully expected it to be just as much torture for her.

He gruffly pulled her back toward him, forcing her to stand upright while he examined the back of her thigh, pressing his wrist firmly into her hip. "This. Bloody hell, Emma, you're infected!" He ran his fingers over the small bumps, shuddering and remembering Liam's lost love all those years ago. He was looking at the same marks, exactly the same there was no doubt, and his blood froze in his veins. He couldn't lose his Swan now. He wouldn't. He'd go with her, but he wouldn't lose her.

She shivered as his fingers brushed the sensitive spot. "That's just some spider bite that won't go away."

"No it isn't, look at it."

Emma tried to put her eyes on the marks, but the angle just wasn't right. Going to the top bathroom drawer, she pulled out a mirror she normally reserved for plucking and primping. Bending over, the mirror between her legs, she found the spot that had been tender for the past couple of weeks.

"Oh, my God! They look just like the snake bites that David was talking about with the coroner. The two bodies... he said they had marks just like this!" Emma looked over at him, her eyes wide as she searched for an answer from his closed expression.

"Snake bite? That's no snake bite." Then suddenly it all came together for him. The missing people, the deaths, Emma's anemia. "Bloody hell, Emma, what are we going to do?" He sounded genuinely perplexed. The plague was here in Storybrooke, and few people could actually leave the town.

"About a couple of snakes? We'll track them down and kill them. Regina must have some kind of magic for rounding them up." Just as she spoke, she started to wonder why the venom hadn't killed her too.

Body suffusing with anxiety, restless fear gripping his soul for Emma, he needed her to understand. He said again, "That's no snake bite." He ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up at odd angles. "That's from a creature partially human, but improved, immortal. They can fly, fight, and have the strength of a storm on the sea. Their only weakness is that they must stay out of the sunlight, or risk certain death by incineration. They bite their victims with their teeth and then drink the blood that flows, until their prey is ex-sanguinated." He thought back to the couple of times in his long life that he had encountered such monsters in his travels, always fleeing the place to avoid an epidemic aboard his ship.

"We call them vampires." A tremor passed through Emma at the thought of a vampire in Storybrooke, and she moved to sit down next to Killian, pants forgotten.

Killian looked up at her. "You've heard of them before?"

"Yeah, we have all kinds of stories and movies about them. I guess it doesn't surprise me that they're real." Her brows furrowed together in anxiety.

"Aye, they're certainly real. What surprises me, lass, is that one of them is feeding on you." His voice had an edge to it and sounded far away. He rubbed his hand over his face and looked over at her, concern in his eyes, and he pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder. "It would explain your blood loss." Desperate to touch her, to hold her, just to reassure himself, he placed his arm around her back, tugging her a little closer to him while she continued her thought process.

It all clicked for Emma then. "Bloody hell!" she whispered, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable.

Killian grunted at her adoption of his favorite curse in that moment, especially since this moment definitely called for it.

Cold and seeking his never-ending supply of body heat, Emma leaned into Killian for support and comfort. "When? How?" She spoke softly, scared for the first time since Neverland.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm guessing through your window at night. Which begs the question, who is doing this?" He gently kissed the top of her head and idly stroked her back with his wrist. Slightly adjusting his body, he reached up to cup her cheek with his hand, tugging her face to his chest and resting his head on her hair. He understood the gravity of the situation. This threat would fight back with a vengeance. He had never personally encountered one of the monsters, only heard tales of towns erased off the map, of wandering ships in the sea, crew slaughtered and scattered about the deck, the landing party entering the hold, the thick darkness enshrouding the creatures who would attack, famished from months of wandering in their floating coffin. He shuddered beneath her cheek.

"I have no idea. Wait. Do you think it could be Carl? He's such a creepy man." Emma frowned and scrunched her nose when she thought of how emotionless he seemed to be.

"He goes out during the day, love. It can't be the custodian. They only move at night."

She looked bewildered as she tried to imagine who would want to harm her and why. "Right. Then I don't know." Killian's steady arms and thumping heart beneath her cheek brought a slight comfort, and she found herself taking a deep breath as the anxiety slowly ebbed from her body.

"Me neither. But one thing is certain, I'm not letting you out of my sight until this thing is destroyed, assuming there is only one." He tugged her even closer to him and kissed her hair again, nuzzling his face into her long tresses. He didn't know what turned a person into a vampire as she called them, but if Emma was infected, then he would become infected too.

Reluctantly releasing each other, they crawled under the blankets together. He curled himself around her, covering her with as much of his body as he could, his arms locked around her middle. Emma reached up to turn off the bedside lamp and sank into his warmth, pressing herself as close as she could to him, needing to feel protected. They were silent, pensive, the revelation having stolen their earlier ease and contentment. Emma allowed his strength to flood her body and lull her into a sweet sleep, safe in his arms.

Killian, however, stayed awake that night, for the first time in days regretting that his hook was not by his side.

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Carl calmly walked through the tall pines and oaks. The humidity was high again, covering the ground with dew, muffling his footsteps as he traipsed. The moon shone bright and sure in the clear sky. He heard the cry of the she-wolf, still afar off, and he shivered in anticipation of finally meeting the beautiful creature, imagining her convulsing under his touch. He ran his hands over some low bushes, deciding to hunker down near them for awhile, and wait until she moved closer to one of his traps.

Several minutes later, mind meandering through thoughts and visions, Carl heard a growl from just beyond the branches he was hiding in. Startled, he looked through the rough leaves at the she-wolf, sharp teeth bared, legs stiff and ready to pounce. Her fur bristled as she growled again, low and menacing. Heart leaping into his chest, Carl turned around and ran in the opposite direction, as fast as he could.

All the years of hiking had Carl in excellent shape, and he could run fast, but not as fast as a wolf in pursuit. Lungs screaming as his breath came in short pants and muscles burning with effort, he ran with everything at his disposal, adrenaline fueling his furious escape. Low-lying branches clutched at his clothing, attempting to slow his retreat, his feet attempting to find purchase on the wet fallen leaves that threatened to throw him to the ground with one misstep.

The she-wolf gained on him, of course, how could she not? He only needed a couple more seconds. He clambered over a log quickly, scrambling, and then skirted the trap he knew existed just below the surface of the leaves. The she-wolf jumped high, clearing the log and landing hard and fast in just the spot that Carl had predicted she would. A loud snap exploded in the air as the jaws of the trap closed around her leg.

Howling in defeat and fury, she snapped her teeth toward the small man, who had fallen while his eyes had followed her leap. He had barely escaped with his life.

Carl stayed on the ground until his heart resumed its normal pulse. Standing, he brushed himself off, nonplussed, as though he had planned it all along. He sneered at the graceful animal before him, who stood with her right front paw caught in the jaws of the steel trap, blood dripping from the wound, frantically trying to free herself. Smiling lecherously and consumed with images feeding his hunger, Carl walked away, back to the bushes where he'd left his backpack in his haste.

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**Review?**


	23. Chapter 23

**Beta read by Revenessa. Please check out her story, "Wasn't Love, Love" if you haven't—it's been nominated for the CS awards on Tumblr. Congratulations, Girl!**

**You guys have no idea how much your reviews mean. I've been struggling a little bit with another story and I read some of your reviews—perked me right up and killed the writer's block. So thank you, thank you.**

**To Gabe: Thank you muchly for your very kind words. I try to stay ahead a couple of chapters so I can post regularly. Although it may take a little longer to get the final chapters up—there are only three left! I can't believe it.**

**So without further ado, Ruby's fate… and a little angst with our favorite couple.**

Chapter 23

Carl gradually made his way toward his pack filled with tools, deliberately drawing out the inevitable, delaying his gratification, knowing it would be oh so sweet. He couldn't believe his luck in capturing his heart's delight, a predator of her magnitude. He whistled softly at the odds, rejoicing in his superior skills. He usually only processed prey animals, deer and rabbits and such, but she was a work of art, a testimony to his true gift as a tracker. He was king of the forest… he was the one the animals should venerate…should fear… he was the one in control. He heard the she-wolf's cry of anguish and purposely slackened his steps even further, rolling his feet and gliding as the mossy ground under him flexed beneath his boots. To wallow in the thrill of the hunt, to squeeze every last drop of pleasure from this moment until his soul writhed in bliss-he had all night ahead of him, there was no need to hurry.

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Katrina hadn't had a drink from the Swan woman in a couple of days, her craving for Emma's magical blood filling her head and doing its best to blot out every other thought, pulling like a tug of war at her carefully constructed restraint. She wasn't currently stalking anyone else, so she put on her black catsuit and drove into town, the full moon making it hazardous to fly without risking being seen. Driving to a street near Emma's apartment, she walked the rest of the way, no one else in sight. She smiled at the perfectly round moon that brightened the entire sky, its gentle face having witnessed centuries of unspeakable acts.

Dragging her mind back to Emma Swan, Katrina's brows slid together, a troubled look settling over her face. Something about Swan's demeanor the night before—Why didn't Emma's eyes have the far away, glazed look that Carl's often had after she'd fed from him? Katrina had taken enough of Emma's blood to ensure her slow transformation, although Emma wouldn't know that. Still there should have been more signs evident in her person, sickness even, and all Katrina had been able to discern was that Emma looked tired and pale.

She chuckled to herself sardonically; the only bright side to their meeting was the deputy believing snakes to be responsible for the deaths and missing persons. It was only a matter of time now before she'd have to find a way out of Storybrooke. No matter how careful she always was, someone would eventually come hunting. Her kind had been around long enough that people always figured it out.

Lost in reflection, her thirst just beginning to scream for attention like an insistent child who goes from whining to wailing in the blink of an eye, Katrina closed her eyes underneath Emma's window, slowly floating upward in anticipation of the delicious flavor of young blood, her preferred libation. Although, young or old, animal or human, blood was blood, and her insatiable hunger for it would torture her until she satisfied the craving.

Forgetting to listen for Emma's position, her head besotted with need and therefore missing the sound of two heartbeats, she opened the window and crawled in, no louder than a whispering wind.

Killian's eyes snapped toward the nearly imperceptible sound, not moving a muscle and for once wishing that Emma wasn't quietly snoring. He trained his eyes on the sway of the curtains as a svelte female form entered the room, silently cursing the light of the moon that kept her face and therefore her identity in shadow. His muscles tensed and his heart began thumping in his ears, his body ready to spring forward in an instant.

Katrina looked over to the bed and nearly gasped in shock at Jones' flashing eyes affixed on her person. The moonlight reflected in his orbs produced the exact same shade of blue as Liam's. Katrina's stunned expression softened into longing for her lost love, her heart clenching in her chest as the memory of his smiling face caused her to linger just a moment longer than she would have liked. Shaking her head to clear the confusion of too many intrusive thoughts, she flew out the window in a second, as though she'd never been there.

Killian's eyes burned a hole in the carpet where the predator had been standing. If he hadn't been awake the entire time, he might have thought she was only a phantom, a vision intent on haunting his waking dreams. But even though he didn't get a good look at her face, he saw the whip of bright red hair, momentarily illuminated by the silvery light of the earth's silent witness.

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Ruby howled at the moon again in agony, her right front leg nearly cracking from the powerful manacles. She had never been trapped before, the confinement almost as terrifying as not knowing what he had in store for her. Like a radio tuning to a specific frequency, her ears tracked the distant sound of his retreating steps, his leisurely pace muffled by the pine straw blanketing the ground. She heard him stop, presumably to pick something up as the metallic clang of utensils rang out in the hush of the forest. The resounding clash reminded her of washing dishes at the diner, and a wave of anxiety-ridden nausea swamped her at the despair of never seeing Granny again.

Taking hold of her ragged breathing and forcing her heart to slow down its gallop, Ruby assessed the situation. No matter what that man had planned, she needed to free herself, and fast. Using every ounce of her fortitude, she turned her leg so that it flipped the trap to the backside. The resulting position was awkward and excruciating, but she only had one chance to get out of the claws that had pierced her skin to the bone. Applying her powerful jaw muscles, she clamped onto the pin that held the two fetters together underneath the spring. As she eased the pin out, the tight coil of the spring loosened until finally, the trap fell apart, releasing her leg as a result. Testing her weight on the injured leg, she was relieved to find that it was sore, but still functional.

She settled back down on the forest floor, listening as his languid steps plodded increasingly closer. Careful to keep the appearance of being trapped, she restlessly awaited his return, her tumultuous emotions flip-flopping between curiosity and a morbid sense of dread, now that she had the upper hand again. She hoped to find out exactly what his intentions were, exactly why he was in the forest in the first place.

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Carl cautiously approached the elegant animal sitting before him, keeping well away from her head, observing her labored breathing with a brutal gleam in his eyes. He circled her twice, her entire head rotating to catch his every movement, and he marveled at the graceful lines of her exquisite body, a work of art fit for a museum. He knew she was still dangerous, even ensnared, and he needed all his attention trained on her. Taking out a tranquilizer gun already primed with an opiate designed to make her sluggish and to give him time to immobilize her head, he aimed for her front shoulder. He shot just as she jerked, the dart landing in her hind quarter instead.

The sedative began its slow trek throughout her body, and Ruby knew it was now or never while she still had the advantage. As Carl noisily searched his pack, his hands shaking a little, he pulled out a large plastic apron and rubber gloves, then clumsily upturned a small cloth satchel, slim knives and sharp instruments sliding out to hit the ground one by one, blades glinting in the moonlight. Eyes opening wide in horror as the full realization of his objective hit her, Ruby vaulted forward, landing squarely on Carl's chest and knocking the wind out of him.

Carl gasped from the impact, his eyes wide with astonishment for just a moment before his face melted into an expression of absolute calm, realizing that this was a suitable end to his life, that he had vastly underestimated his prey. Looking up into her gleaming and almost questioning eyes, his head jolted, suddenly recognizing the shimmering gaze of the ravishing beauty from the diner. His face softened into a gentle smile as the endless possibilities of a life by her side, but that would never be, marched across his pupils. He could have kept her, loved her, cherished her, caged her to his heart for eternity.

He licked his lips, noting that she was standing above him the way he had pictured her before, her wolf form just as pleasing to him as her human.

Ruby had watched the recognition of her identity dawn on his face, and his expression spoke volumes to her sharp instincts that he would never stop pursuing her as long as he lived. She thought about injuring him, but knew that if he had any life in him, he would kill her without question, probably involving some kind of torture. With only seconds before the sedative completely immobilized her, and deciding to pay the consequences later rather than take a chance now, Ruby pulled her lips behind her teeth in a feral growl, head descending slowly at first and then lightening fast. She crushed his neck with her jaws, piercing through all the muscles in one fearsome bite.

Carl died instantly, an expression of sheer rapture on his face.

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Katrina quickly lowered herself to the ground after flying out of Emma's window. Moving undetectably fast, she made her way to her truck and started driving back to her crypt, fighting a desperate urge to flee the town completely.

Katrina had been through this before, multiple times. She knew when the net was closing in around her, but she wouldn't let that derail her revenge. She needed to see this through to the end; Liam's fresh-eyed gaze lingered in the back of her mind, strengthening her resolve like tightening a bolt so snug that the wrench nearly slips from the applied force. She thought of Gustav, how they had almost been discovered once because of his carelessness.

"_How could you be so stupid?" she snarled. Gustav stood before her, hands covered in bright red blood, a sheepish grin on his handsome face. "You look like you bathed in it."_

"_Jealous?" he taunted her._

"_No, I just don't want to have to leave this town like we did the last. Someone is going to find out that you killed the magistrate's daughter."_

"_I did more than just kill her." His simpering look metamorphosed into a sneer at Katrina's incredulous expression._

"_God, you're insufferable. I hate you." She spat the words at him, her fury palpable._

"_I know, and isn't it grand?" He smiled broadly, sweeping his hands out wide and spraying droplets of the red ooze in Katrina's face. _

_Katrina turned on her heel, seething, and hurried to pack their things, knowing they would need to get a head start before the morning sun rose. That was the day Katrina had decided to rid herself of Gustav once and for all._

Forgoing her usual wandering, Katrina drove home to use the hours before daylight to prepare for her final act as Katrina Istrati, creature of the night.

She would abduct Emma Swan and Killian Jones, and force him to watch while she transformed the pretty little blond into a hideous creature like herself. She'd kill Jones too, instinctively knowing he wouldn't rest until he destroyed her. Then she planned to step over the Storybrooke line, her past, Liam, and her bloodlust forgotten, vengeance assuaged, ready to travel overseas and take on a new job as coroner in another small town. The beauty of her plan was that she wouldn't remember who she was, or how many people had died at her hands, or any of the other regrets that she carefully concealed beneath her calm exterior; she wouldn't remember the life she had tried to outrun for centuries.

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Emma woke to Killian's soft snores, daylight streaming through the window. The curtains gently billowed, which confused Emma since the window had been closed the night before. She'd have to ask Killian if he had opened it, although he looked to be in much the same position as he'd been when they had fallen asleep together. She didn't want to disturb him, so she didn't move, enjoying the steady beat of his heart against her back, and the weight of his hand on her hip. She sighed in contentment, relishing this moment with her man, intentionally pushing the revelation from the night before to the back of her mind where it couldn't quite threaten the impression of peace that had settled over her body.

Killian had finally found rest after the sun began its lazy ascent into the sky, sleep eluding him until he could be sure his Swan was safe. He heard Emma's sigh and wearily dragged his lids open, nuzzling his chin into her shoulder for a minute, before remembering what he had seen that night, the anxiety for his lass's safety returning full force. He stiffened against her soft body, his hand slipping from her hip down to her belly.

Emma stretched lazily, pressing her back into his warm chest, misinterpreting the slight change in his position. "I love that I never have that horrible nightmare when I'm with you."

He kissed her on the shoulder, breathing in her scent and unable to keep a slight tremor from his voice. "Aye, well, I think I know why."

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Henry was watching his usual Saturday morning cartoons, his grandmother in the kitchen, quietly humming a cheerful tune while she brewed coffee and scrambled eggs. She cut thick slices of the homemade bread from the night before and toasted them in the oven, covering them liberally with fresh butter and setting a jar of strawberry preserves on the counter.

David sat at the table reading the newspaper, mumbling to himself every so often as another stray thought about the case nabbed his consciousness.

Looking over to Henry, Mary Margaret said, "Hey Henry, do you mind going upstairs to get your mom? Breakfast is ready, and we need to meet the furniture van in an hour."

"Sure. I'll be right back." He smiled and took the stairs two at a time.

Knocking twice and not waiting for an answer, Henry opened the door to his mother's room, saying, "Hey, M…" and then stopping abruptly at the scene before him. Cuddling as comfortably as you please was his mom in Captain Hook's arms.

Emma had been distracted by Killian's wandering hand, so she had missed the sound of her son bounding up the stairs. She had just been looking over her shoulder at Killian when the door opened to reveal her son. Gasping in surprise, she nearly shouted, "Henry!"

Henry narrowed his eyes at the two of them, turned around and stalked out of her room.

"Crap!" Emma was out of bed in an instant, berating herself for not getting up a few minutes sooner. She looked back over at Killian, who had rolled to his back, arms under his head.

"I take it you'll be a few minutes," he deadpanned, staring up at the ceiling and feeling cast aside again, a spectator in her life rather than an active player. She obviously hadn't told her lad about them, and he found himself wondering again if she really was serious about him, or if he was just a fun way to pass the time, nothing but a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem—definitely not worthy of her family. His heart ached with sorrow at her carelessness, his body steeling itself against the onslaught of raw melancholy that threatened his self-possession.

Emma looked back at him, silently cursing that both her two favorite men were pissed at her. She had really messed up, and she wasn't sure how to fix it. "Killian, I…" But what could she say? He had the same pained expression on his face, the same hard line to his mouth that he had the day before—when she thought she had effectively convinced him that she wanted a future with him. Yet here she was, her actions once again speaking louder than words, that she hadn't even told her son about them, so how could he possibly trust that she wanted him in her life?

"Go. Tend to your lad." His voice was quiet and smooth, with an underlying hint of irritation, and he wouldn't look at her.

"But you don't understand." She put her hands out toward him and then let them fall loosely to her sides, realizing that she couldn't comfort them both at the same time.

"Go. He's more important at the moment." His intense blue gaze found hers, a pained expression marring his handsome features.

Apology written all over her face, Emma quickly pulled on her jeans and raced down the stairs to her upset son.

Henry was sitting on the couch, arms folded over his chest, feet propped on the coffee table, staring unblinkingly at the images on the TV, definitely not giving his mother his attention.

Emma sat next to him, keeping her hands in her lap, afraid he'd flinch if she touched him. "Henry, I was going to tell you."

He kept his face forward, anger laced throughout his posture and his tone. "Tell me what? About you and Captain Hook?"

Mary Margaret gasped from the kitchen and David looked up from his paper, both having heard the boy's petulant retort.

"Henry, it just happened. I… I didn't plan it. We just sort of… well… we sort of fell in love."

He turned toward her then, doubt etched into his features, and he responded sarcastically. "Love? How can you be in love with Captain Hook? He's a pirate, not a father." He redirected his gaze back to the TV.

Emma was beginning to see where this was headed. "Henry, you know I'll always care about your dad, but we're not together anymore." She reached toward him, anxious to comfort him, but let her hands fall when she saw she risked pushing him away even more.

"Even after Neverland? He told me you said you loved him. I thought we could have a chance… as a family. I want a family—you know... a father, mother… brothers and sisters." He began to choke up a little, one tear forming in the corner of his eye, head still trained straight ahead.

Torn between her son's heart-ache at never having had a father, and frustrated that Neal would involve Henry in their complicated relationship, she put her feelings aside for the time being. Sitting up a little taller, she said with conviction, "Neal will always be your father, that's not going to change."

He looked into her face with such hope beneath his sad eyes that she had to tell him the whole truth. Speaking more gently, she continued, "And I do love Neal. I always will. But he and I together…as a couple… we can't give you your best chance. As a couple we never even gave ourselves our best chance. Can you understand that?"

"Yeah, I think I do." He pushed off the couch and brushed past her to the counter, taking a plate of eggs and a piece of toast to the table. Slumping down, he ate his meal in silence.

Emma glanced back up, catching her mother's eyes as Mary Margaret mouthed, "I'm sorry."

David looked back and forth between his wife and daughter, not sure how he could help, finally deciding to just stay quiet and let them handle it.

Emma gave a small smile, waving her hand in defeat, and plodded back upstairs to tell Killian it was okay for him to come down. When she opened the door to her room, he was gone, the sweatpants he'd borrowed carelessly tossed on the end of the bed, the curtains billowing in the breeze.

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Ruby woke up in the forest, birds chirping cheerily all around her as the sun peeked over the tops of the trees. She was still in wolf form, splayed across the body of the man who had captured her, muscles throbbing from the after-effects of the tranquilizer. She shook her muzzle a couple of times, drooling to clear the taste of blood and chemicals that clung to his body like they were his own personal cologne. Standing gingerly, head swimming a little from blood loss, her leg thankfully already scabbed over from the wounds inflicted by the trap, she turned her sorrowful eyes at the face of the man upon whom she had collapsed just after biting out his neck. His silent gaze stared peacefully at the morning light.

Shuddering at the events from the night before and filled with chagrin over his death, Ruby decided to go home and clean her wound before turning herself in for murder to Emma and David.

Anxious to put some space behind her, she limped toward home.

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David, Mary Margaret and Emma met the movers exactly one hour later. Although Henry had originally planned to help, he begged David to drop him off at Neal's before bringing Emma's bed to the cottage.

Two jolly guys alighted from the moving van and opened the back of the truck with cheerful smiles, ready to help set up the furniture, not noticing the strained expressions on their customers' faces. They offered to carry everything into the house and place the pieces wherever Emma wanted. After the morning's events, she wasn't in the mood for decorating, so she didn't think much about it, letting Mary Margaret take the lead. The work went fairly quickly since there weren't too many items, just a kitchen table and chairs, a couch and matching armchair, TV and entertainment center, one small bookshelf, a couple of small tables, and the bedroom set Henry had picked out.

After Emma's bed was removed from the back of David's truck, Mary Margaret happily presented her with a brand new set of pots and pans and kitchen utensils, offering cooking lessons whenever her daughter was ready. Emma smiled and kissed her mother on the cheek, touched by the gift.

David had a busy few hours ahead of him, so he hugged Emma and Mary Margaret goodbye, intending to go to Neal's first to look through rental records, then to the station to see if the database had finished matching fingerprints. He also planned to talk with Regina at some point to ask what she knew about the vipers.

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Mary Margaret and Emma spent the rest of the afternoon together, Emma grateful that she wasn't alone. They visited several stores, picking out flatware, plates and glasses, Tupperware, and a pile of groceries to stock the kitchen. Although it should have been a happy occasion, there was a lingering gloominess over the entire afternoon, Emma feeling despondent over her out of sorts' relationships as well as learning she was the target of a vampire. She didn't share with her mother about her bite marks, however, trying to protect her from worry for as long as possible although Emma really could have used some encouragement.

Standing side by side in front of the stove, placing all the new purchases into the cabinets, Mary Margaret began, "I know it's difficult with Henry right now, Emma, but he'll come around. You'll see. He doesn't let anything get him down for too long."

Emma stilled her hands on the pan she was holding and put her head on Mary Margaret's shoulder. Mary Margaret turned to face her and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Emma let her, needing to feel the comfort from someone who understood. "I know. It's just that Neal is so new in his life, and he needs a father figure."

"You aren't taking him away from Neal."

Emma spoke into her shoulder, "I know that, and you know that. But Henry has lived without a father his whole life. I can kind of identify with him holding out hope that Neal and I would get back together and then he could have one big happy family all to himself."

"That makes sense." Mary Margaret released Emma from her arms, and they turned back to the work they had been doing before.

Emma continued, "To make matters worse, Killian was offended that I hadn't told Henry about us. He witnessed my floundering while I tried to come up with some kind of an excuse for not telling Henry sooner." She felt exasperated by the timing of it all, especially since only yesterday Killian had told her he wanted to be more than a lover to her.

"Oh, so that explains why I didn't see him this morning after Henry's exclamation."

Emma grunted in assent, the lump in her throat tightening.

"Why didn't you tell Henry sooner?" she asked quietly, curious and yet afraid Emma would shut her out.

"I don't know. I guess I'm still trying to figure out if this is real. I'm dating Captain Hook for heaven's sake!" Her voice cracked a little as she spoke, frustrated with herself and her baggage that kept her from ever deepening her relationships. The only reason Killian had gotten so far was because of his gentle persistence that didn't push her before she was ready.

"Emma." Mary Margaret turned to her and put her hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look her mother in the eyes. "You always come out fighting—that's what you do—but you can't fight true love, honey. Relentlessly, it wrestles you to the ground until you surrender everything you have. Why don't you try enjoying it for a change?" She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead and released her.

Stunned for a moment, Emma didn't move. "True love? Seriously? I thought Killian was just being sentimental."

"So he knows, then," Mary Margaret stated matter of factly.

Emma just stared open-mouthed as several thoughts assailed her at once. True love? It couldn't be. Her true love was Captain Hook? No. All this time? Killian had tried to tell her, more than once, and thinking back over their relationship, she could now see the vestiges of the same type of connection her mother and father shared. She knew she and Killian loved each other, but true love was intimidating, raw and real, vulnerable and defenseless. Her walls of protection wouldn't stand a chance against true love, and she'd be left without a shield around her heart.

She let her head fall, landing in her hand with a light pat. "True love," she whispered. It had taken her thirty years to find her true love, and she hadn't even been looking, while Killian had waited three hundred years for his. It was overwhelming, the thought that he was meant to be hers, that her pirate wasn't going anywhere.

"I don't know what you're so surprised about. He can be quite delightful when he wants to be, and true love is often found in the most unexpected places." Mary Margaret smiled, thinking of how much Killian had impressed her with his unfailing devotion and sincerity regarding Emma. And it excited her to think that Emma's happy ending was finally within reach.

"Unexpected to say the least!" Emma's head came up as she thought about the story of Peter Pan that she had grown up with, the curly-headed Captain Hook, a caricature of the man she had come to know and love. She started laughing, the kind of laugh that stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes, releasing all the tension from moments before.

Emma's laughter was contagious and Mary Margaret soon found herself giggling along with her daughter, even though she wasn't quite sure what had tickled Emma so deeply.

As the laughter died away, Emma sighed, her heart picking up speed as she considered the implications of having found her true love. "What am I going to do now? He and Henry hate me." She said it quietly, feeling small and insignificant against the weight of the revelation.

"Just give your men a little time to cool off, they'll come around." Mary Margaret smiled, ever the eternal optimist.

Emma gave a tiny smile. "I hope you're right."

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	24. Chapter 24

**Beta read by Revenessa.**

**Enjoy! And thanks to all you awesome reviewers-I see you!  
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* * *

Chapter 24

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Since inheriting his father's businesses, Neal had slowly been working his way through his father's long list of properties and tenants, visiting occupants, trying to establish a connection with each one as he collected rent. He even allowed some people to purchase their homes if they wanted, deciding he had more than enough to handle on his own, property management having become his full-time job. His father had always held as much property as possible, preferring to own everything himself to maintain control over as many people as he could.

As David and Neal examined the books, they found thirteen other tenants who had stopped paying their rent since the curse was broken.

Neal rubbed his hands over his face, tired from looking through all the paperwork for the past couple of hours. "I just assumed they were falling on hard times. I planned to make a note of those not paying so I could find out what was going on with them and set up some kind of alternate arrangements."

David sighed and leaned back in his chair. "That's still a possibility. I just need to check out the locations and make sure the tenants are still living there." He glanced at the addresses, noting that all of them were well away from the center of town. His heart sank, fearing the worst.

Copying down the addresses of the thirteen tenants, David thanked Neal for all his help, shaking his hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Henry!" he shouted toward the back of the shop.

"Goodbye." Henry did not appear, still sounding dejected, his tone missing its usual cheer.

David shrugged, sure the boy would come around soon, and left for the station.

Neal dropped his shoulders, relief setting in as soon as David had gone. It had been difficult keeping his mind on tenants when the distraction of Henry's odd behavior, even though the boy hadn't offered up any details, danced around the outskirts of his mind, filling his mouth with a sour taste. He figured out that Henry had caught Emma with Hook, upsetting the boy and sending him into a mute malaise. Neal walked to the back of the store, where Henry was sitting in front of the TV sulking. "Hey, Henry, I think I'm going to take a walk. You'll be ok for a little bit?"

At Henry's straight-faced nod, Neal left the shop, intending to have a conversation with the pirate who had caused so much trouble throughout his long life.

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Just as David parked in front of the station, Ruby hurried across the street as though she had been waiting for him. "Hey, Ruby, what happened to your arm?" David asked, smiling fondly at the red head.

Covered in thick white hospital bandages, Ruby's right arm was resting in a sling. She winced with every quick step she took, the motion jarring her injury.

Breathless with effort, she said, "David, I'm turning myself in. I killed someone last night."

If David expected her to say anything afternoon, it wasn't the words that had just fallen out of her mouth. He stared at her wide-eyed, not sure he had heard her correctly. "You say you killed someone?"

Ruby looked down at her feet, face filled with regret, choking just a little on her words even though she had rehearsed them for several hours, having been anxious about her fate. "Yeah… the full moon was last night and I killed… someone. I came to turn myself in." She picked up her head, pretty but sad eyes meeting David's as a full measure of remorse swept over her painfully.

"I thought you had yourself under control now." Confused, his brows furrowed together, still not quite believing what his friend was telling him. If she couldn't control her inner wolf, then they were all in trouble.

"I did… I do…" She dropped her head again, playing with the edge of the makeshift sling for a moment, collecting herself, and then looked back up with fire in her eyes and conviction in her voice. "I knew exactly what I was doing, but that doesn't excuse the fact that I did it."

David took a deep breath, trying to gain some semblance of calm at her admission. "Come inside and tell me what happened." He had seen Ruby kill in the heat of battle, and knew that would be her last resort. Surely there was an explanation.

Entering the station, he sat her down in a chair across from him and asked her to start at the beginning.

"There was this man, creepy, little. He smelled funny and he threatened me." She stared at her hand in her lap, hesitant to relieve the events that had been playing through her mind like a bad song on a radio that can't be turned off.

"Threatened you how? What did he say?" David leaned forward, carefully paying attention, hoping to find any kind of loophole so he wouldn't have to arrest his friend.

"It wasn't what he said, it was what he didn't say. It was his posture and his eye contact… like an animal… like… me." She sat up straighter. "I recognized it for what it was."

"Ok, go on." David rolled his shoulders back, worried that she'd need to give him more than that if he was going to find a good reason to let her go. He couldn't really believe she would kill someone without provocation.

"Well, last night was the full moon, and you know how I like to roam." At that, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly, the only bright spot in an awful tale. David nodded gently and she took a deep breath before continuing. "I picked up his scent in the forest, and I followed him, chased him, intending to make a show of who was in charge. It was all bluster really, but while I was chasing him, I landed in a trap. The pain! It was excruciating and I felt like my leg was breaking. I've never been caught before, David! I was helpless to whatever he was going to do. He… leered at me and left me there for a few minutes, and I was terrified because I knew he was coming back. I could hear his footsteps as he approached. I was so scared, David." She began shaking, the fear overtaking her and the smell of the man and his intentions flooding her nose even now, sitting safely in the station. She had brushed her teeth five separate times to clear that stench from her mouth, bile rising in the back of her throat as she talked.

David shuddered and placed his hand on her knee for comfort.

"I was lucky. He used an old-school type of trap. I was able to pull the pin out of the back and the trap fell apart, releasing my leg. I waited for him to come back, still intending to just scare him a bit, maybe strongly discourage him from trying to trap me anymore. But he had a tranquilizer gun and knives and plastic." The sobs swamped her thin frame as she put her face in her hand, the realization of what had almost happened too much for her in the moment.

David stood up out of his chair and squatted down next to her, rubbing her back as she continued through her tear-streaked face. "He shot me, still thinking I was trapped, and I knew I only had a moment… I pounced and then bit out his neck. It was all over in a second, and then I passed out from the sedative."

David stayed quiet, still rubbing circles on her back, eyes trained forward as he pictured what she was saying, trying to figure out who would be so cruel, relieved that there was a reason for the killing.

"I know you have to lock me up, David. I did it willingly. It was no accident."

David stood up and offered her a hand, smiling gently. "Ruby, as far as I can tell, you acted in self-defense. You have the wounds to prove it." Then he quietly asked, "Can you show me where you left the body?"

She nodded, the anxiety easing from her features. "Yes, I can take you there now."

David put his arm around her and they walked out of the station to his truck, Ruby pointing out the way as he drove.

They followed the main road that led into the country, stopping when they saw the small Honda off the side of the road. David parked his truck next to the tiny car and allowed Ruby to lead him into the forest, grabbing a stick along the way and staying by her side so he could poke the piles of leaves and straw to avoid any other possible traps.

They trekked quite a ways into the growth and underbrush, the canopy of the trees mottling the sunlight streaming through. The birds sang brightly, and all kinds of little creatures scurried and scampered around, a happy contrast to the reason they were there.

The afternoon wore on, Ruby growing increasingly tired with all the walking, her pain killers having worn off long ago and her arm throbbing in its sling.

"How much further?" David asked as he felt fatigue begin to set into his limbs.

"Just up ahead." Ruby spoke quietly and pointed to a fallen log.

The forest sounds quieted as they hiked closer to the body. Stepping over the mossy log and motioning to Ruby to stay where she was, David moved closer, wrinkling his nose at the smell, and staring into the eerily calm face splattered with blood. It was Carl, the custodian of the morgue. He saw the open backpack, the plastic gloves and apron dropped carelessly at Carl's side, a cloth satchel revealing all kinds of scalpels and pointy instruments. He recognized most of the items as torture implements, having spent some time in Regina's dungeons. He pursed his lips into a hard line, repulsed at what those items implicated, and grateful that his friend was resourceful, or he was certain he would be staring at her lifeless body instead.

Jumping back over the log to where Ruby was standing and quietly staring out at the beautiful forest, David flipped open his cell phone to dial the morgue again, hoping someone was on call.

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Killian lounged motionless against the railing of his ship, allowing the afternoon sunlight glinting off the waves like a sea of twinkling diamonds to calm his restless mind. After leaving Emma's bedroom that morning, he had wandered aimlessly around town, feet plodding nowhere, brooding, before finally returning to the only home he had ever truly known.

Emma came with a son and a past with Baelfire. Why Milah's lad of all people? It was another cruel trick of lady-fate, Killian never having much favor with the elusive lass. He felt like the usurper he was—the only two women he'd ever loved having belonged to the Crocodile's family. He chuckled, a sarcastic edge to the sound, thinking maybe he should have chosen a different family tree.

But what was done was done, and now he'd found true love. He, Captain Killian Hook Jones, pirate extraordinaire, had found true love. That realization had slowly anchored itself in his stony heart, softening it, molding it until he belonged to Emma body and soul. It wasn't possible to turn away now; his will irrevocably attached to the blonde-headed beauty who'd captured his respect at first, and then his devotion. And even though he resented lady-fate with her brutal twists and turns, he appreciated when she occasionally smiled on him, even if it had taken three hundred years to gain a reprieve.

He pulled out an apple, munching while the calm waters continued to untangle his matted emotions. If he really thought about it, he knew that Emma hadn't intended to hurt his feelings, not about Bae and not with Henry either. As his head cleared, he could see that Henry's rejection had come too close on the heels of his insecurity about Emma's feelings for Bae and for their chance as a family without his interference. He had reacted badly. He could see how it wasn't really her fault. She had a son and it was natural for her to want to protect Henry from strange men in her life, especially when the man was a pirate with a shady past, a man of appetites and strong emotions, a man with more baggage than even Emma could fathom.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth to dry his lips of the juice. He ached for Emma, for her crinkled smile, her sassy wit, her laughter, her touch, but he realized that they both had insecurities they would need to grind through. True love didn't necessarily negate the hard work a relationship sometimes took. It had taken Emma a long time to trust him, and he didn't want to throw that away over a temper tantrum. It was bad form.

Throwing the apple core as far as his strength would allow, watching as it descended into that cool ocean water, he glanced at the sky and the position of the sun, marking the time as mid-afternoon. He grabbed his clothes for a quick shower, anxious to get back to his lass.

Striding briskly toward Emma's new home, eager to make-up with his Swan and protect her from the plague, he turned a corner near the hardware store and bumped right into someone.

"Oi, mate, watch where you're going." Killian spoke in frustration, picking up his head, surprised to see Baelfire.

Irked, Neal stepped back and muttered, "I was just coming to find you."

"Seriously? And what could I possibly do for you today?" Killian leaned against the corner of the shop, arms crossed, steeling himself for the confrontation he was sure to come.

"You said you were going to back off," Neal challenged.

Killian took a deep breath, having expected some kind of fight out of Bae. "I did back off." He needed to stay level-headed about this.

"Then what is she doing with you?" Neal moved forward just a hair, changing his posture to a slightly more threatening position, his hands fisting at his sides. He had lied. Hook had lied and was trying to steal Emma away from him. He had had to give her up twelve years ago so she could break the curse, but he wasn't giving her up now.

"I dunno, mate. I always let my women come to me." Killian began picking his fingernails with the tip of his hook, a slight smirk gracing his lips, easily slipping into the bragging smart-ass that came so naturally.

Neal's eyes widened, his mouth settling into a tight line. "You wanna do this, Hook? You wanna start something here? Because what's Emma going to think about that?"

Killian took another deep breath, stood up straight, and rubbed the back of his neck, deciding that maybe a fight wasn't really the best course of action here. "Look, Bae, I never said I was going to stay away once she'd made her choice."

"You can't keep messing with my family, man. We have a son who's really upset right now because he doesn't understand what's keeping his parents apart," he appealed, his eyes searching Killian's face.

Killian felt like he was living the past all over again, the crocodile begging him to return Milah for the lad's sake. Only this time he wasn't whisking the lad's mother away, Emma would stay with Henry. "As far as I can tell, his parents are apart because of a complicated past that has nothing to do with me." Killian had given Emma every opportunity to be with Baelfire if she wished; but she was Killian's true love, and that made Bae an accessory in her life, not the main player.

"All I'm asking is that you give Emma some space. I think she's confused right now, and needs time to sort out her feelings for me." He looked down at his feet, as though he wasn't quite sure of what he was saying, but praying that Killian would buy it.

Killian sighed, compassion overcoming annoyance. Bae was delusional, but Killian didn't want to be the one to break it to him, part of him still feeling sorry for the boy who'd lost his family all those years ago, and instinctively knowing Bae wouldn't understand anyway. Bae liked to blame his life's circumstances on anyone and anything rather than take responsibility for his own hand in it, or the fact that it was just life, and shit happens.

"Perhaps she's already sorted her feelings out." He watched Bae with hooded eyes, taking in his agitated stance, Bae making a play for more time in a game he knew was already over.

Neal's head shot up at that, and he glared at Hook. "How is that possible with you barking at her heels every step she takes?" He wanted to punch the expression off his rival's face, to jump at his throat like he had done as a kid. The pirate was again stealing an important woman in his life, first his mother and now Emma.

"Whatever you may think, mate, this conversation is a bit belated." His voice was clipped and he looked away from Bae for a moment before resting his gaze back on the lost boy before him, his expression changing to one of compassion as he recognized Bae's need to protect what he loved. "Listen, I will do everything in my power to make this easy on your lad, but I'm in love with Emma, and as long as she'll have me, I'm not going anywhere."

Neal looked defeated, but as though he had expected as much. "Yeah, well, thanks but no thanks. We'll see how long this lasts between you." Neal stalked off, back in the direction he had come, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and hunching his shoulders against the fruitless conversation.

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Emma and Mary Margaret were enjoying a quiet afternoon, relaxing after the work day. They were sitting on her new couch, sipping red wine and talking about color palettes and décor, Emma finally allowing herself a break, the alcohol doing much to take the edge off her worries.

There was a knock at the door, and Emma set her glass down to answer it. Pulling it open, her eyes beheld her pirate, an uncomfortable expression on his face. She waited to see what he would say, to see if he had decided to call off whatever it was they were doing, and leave her the same way everyone else had. She forced her features to look relaxed.

Killian glanced around Emma to see Mary Margaret in the background, then looked down at his boots. He kicked at the door jamb a couple of times, running his hand through his hair nervously. Pulling his blue gaze back up to hers when she didn't say anything, he studied her face for any kind of reaction. His heart was already beating a tatted pattern in his chest, Emma so close and yet so far away. He wanted to hold her, but he'd been bloody stupid. Finally taking a big gulp of air to push down his pride, he said, "I'm sorry love, I acted like a fool. You have every right to explain our dalliance to your lad when you so desire. It was bad form… childish to act as I did."

Emma sighed in relief and grinned as she threw herself into his arms. He was back and he wasn't going anywhere.

He caught her as she fell, whispering in her ear, "I'm sorry I left you this morning, love."

"Oh, Killian." She buried her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his clean spicy scent.

He stroked her hair and then caught movement behind Emma, catching Mary Margaret's eyes as she left the couch to move to the kitchen. He gave her a sheepish grin.

Mary Margaret watched the display between her daughter and Killian and began gathering her things together. She called David to come and pick her up, only to find that he was almost there.

Emma and Killian walked through the doorway, Killian's arm around Emma's waist. Mary Margaret looked up from the phone as she put it back in her purse. "I'll just wait for David outside." She smiled at the pair, and hugged Emma goodbye. "I had fun today, Emma."

"Me too." Emma smiled at her mother, grateful for not having had to spend the day alone.

Just as Mary Margaret was closing the door behind her, David pulled into the driveway, parking and quickly getting out. Mary Margaret held up her hand to stop him, "Honey, Killian just came over and I think they need time to talk." She gave him a knowing look, gesturing behind her with her thumb.

"That will have to wait. I have to talk to them too." David grabbed his wife's hand and drug her back toward the door.

Confused, Mary Margaret just followed.

David opened the door, not bothering to knock, only to interrupt a very passionate kiss. "Oh, sorry."

Annoyed, Killian looked over at David, "Do you mind, mate?"

"Yes, actually, I do." He still hadn't gotten used to Emma dating yet, and it was still odd to imagine her with Killian. "You guys need to hear this."

Emma stepped out of Killian's embrace. "What? What did you find out?"

They all sat down at the table and David began, "You all remember the custodian, Carl, right?" They nodded. "Well it turns out he had a nasty hobby on the side. He liked to torture animals. He captured Ruby in one of his traps last night and she killed him."

Mary Margaret gasped. "Killed him? That doesn't sound like Ruby."

"Well, he didn't leave her a choice. She wanted me to lock her up, but I could see no reason to, as the attack was self-defense."

Killian spoke next. "What about the creature of the night?"

Mary Margaret and David looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Killian glanced over at Emma, stunned that she hadn't told her parents about her bites and asked incredulously, "You didn't tell them?"

"When was I supposed to? I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this myself, and everything has been happening so quickly that I can barely stand it!" She pinched the bridge of her nose again and began rubbing her temples; Killian could see that her face looked a bit paler than it had yesterday. Concentrating his gaze on her, he could see the fatigue in her posture, her eyes and the lines of her forehead. She looked on the verge of a meltdown, he realized with a start, and he kicked himself again for having left her alone that morning.

David and Mary Margaret looked back and forth between Emma and Killian. Mary Margaret raised her voice. "Is someone going to tell us what a creature of the night is?"

Emma slumped in her seat, avoiding her parents' eyes. "A vampire."

"A vampire?" Mary Margaret gulped.

"What?" David whispered at the same time as his wife spoke.

Killian began. "Emma has bite marks on the back of her thigh." At David's upturned face, he spoke deadpan, "Don't ask."

David shook his head. "I won't, believe me."

Killian continued, "Last night the vampire climbed in through Emma's bedroom window."

There was a collective gasp around the table. "So that's why the window was open." Emma inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling very cold and violated. The bite marks hadn't seemed real until just that moment, the image of someone standing in her room, watching her and feeding from her filling her with all kinds of alarm.

"Aye. She saw me and flew out the window in an instant."

"I can't believe it." Mary Margaret whispered. "A vampire is attacking Emma?"

Killian answered, "It would appear so. And it seems to me that might be the cause of death for the two people you found the other day."

Mary Margaret still looked confused, addressing David. "I thought you said it was snake bites?"

"That's what I thought too," David said. "Are you sure, Killian? Even the coroner's report said there was a large amount of venom in the blood of the victims."

"The coroner, right." Killian's brow furrowed and he thought back to his meeting with the coroner, remembering her striking looks and her bright red hair. "I guess a vampire could inject poison as they feed. That might explain how the curse is passed from one to the other." He had never stayed in plagued ports, never risking the health of his crew, so he didn't have an accurate idea of how the illness was spread.

Emma added, "In our stories, one vampire drains a person of his blood and then has the person drink the vampire's own blood. That's how the 'curse' is passed, although all bets are off seeing as this is Storybrooke." She shuddered and then continued. "A vampire in Storybrooke who can't leave to hunt without losing all his memories is a frightening thought."

Killian stroked his chin, "You mean 'her memories'. The vampire is a woman, with red hair."

Emma turned sharply toward Killian as they all digested that information, David saying, "Or a red wig."

Emma addressed David, "Did you get the results of those fingerprint searches yet?"

"No, I didn't go back to the station after Ruby took me to Carl's body. But I'm headed there now." He got up to leave, Mary Margaret grabbing her purse. "I'll call you as soon as I know." Then he looked at Killian, "You'll stay with her right?"

"Of course." He looked at David with a very serious expression, intent on protecting Emma at all costs.

David read Killian's determination and nodded curtly. "Right. You'll hear from me in just a few minutes." He left the house, Mary Margaret following closely behind.

Emma looked over at Killian for a long moment. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm just trying to work it out. We have no idea who might be doing this, and I feel at quite a loss." Killian didn't like not having the advantage; it made him feel weak. He was accustomed to always having something up his sleeve.

Emma nodded; she felt the same way. "What do you think we should do?"

"I dunno. But I'm not leaving you alone at night anymore. I hope you don't mind if I move in for a bit. I'll sleep on the couch if you're uncomfortable, but I refuse to let you stay alone with a vampire on the loose." He glanced around the room at all the windows, wondering if Emma would allow him to board them up until the creature was destroyed.

Emma smiled at Killian, relieved to have him by her side. "Sounds good to me. I don't think I want to be alone right now."

She got up from the table, picking up her forgotten wineglass from the living room and heading to the kitchen to pull something together for supper. "It looks like it's going to be a long night, would you like something to eat?"

"One lesson with your mother and you're ready to tackle supper alone, lass?" he teased.

She pulled out a box of macaroni and cheese and a can of soup, holding them up in front of her with a shrug. "Not exactly."

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David arrived at the station, leaving his truck running and Mary Margaret waiting, thinking he would only be gone a minute.

He raced to the terminal and saw that it had finally finished working. David looked at the open window on the computer screen, the fingerprints from Mable Anderson's house matched Mable Anderson. He closed that window and looked at the one under it. John Stanton. The fingerprints on his house matched his own. David closed that window and looked at the next. Good. It was Mr. Stacey's. But sure enough, the fingerprints from the open door matched Mr. Stacey's only. David groaned as he closed out that window. The fingerprints from Lonnie Anderson's house matched his own.

"Damn!" David exclaimed, loudly slapping his hand on the desk.

The fingerprints were a dead end, but something about Carl was still bothering him. He typed the custodian's name in the database and noted that Carl lived with his brother-in-law Phil Drierson, the sword maker. He picked up his phone and dialed their phone number.

Drierson himself answered, "Hello?"

"This is David Nolan, deputy for the Storybrooke Sheriff's Office."

"Rightly so, Mr. Nolan. How are you liking your new sword?" the older man asked brightly.

"It's a fine piece of work, Mr. Drierson, and I thank you kindly for it. But that's not why I'm calling. I need to know if I can come by and ask you a few questions about your brother-in-law."

"I hope he hasn't gotten himself into any trouble." He chuckled almost guiltily.

"I can't say over the phone. Are you available now?"

"Sure, do you need the address?"

"No, I have it. I'll see you in about fifteen minutes."

David hung up the phone and locked the station doors, dialing Emma's number as he got back into his waiting truck. He held up his hand at Mary Margaret's questioning gaze. "Emma? Dead end. All of the fingerprints matched their owners."

Emma's voice sounded discouraged. "Okay then, thanks for letting us know."

David glanced over at Mary Margaret, who put her hand on his knee. "I'm going over to Phil Drierson's place to ask some questions about Carl. I'll call you if I find out anything. I'll probably head out to the morgue later tonight to search for possible answers. If I do, you and Killian should join me."

"That sounds better than waiting around as bait for a vampire," Emma said.

"Alright. I'll call you in a little while."

He hung up the phone and looked over at his wife. "I have to notify Carl's next of kin about his death, and I want to ask the family some questions. I can drop you home if you want."

"There's no way I'm going home to twiddle my thumbs while my family might be in danger. I'm coming with you."

David rubbed his hand over his face, thinking about the vampire. "We have no leads, two dead bodies with bite marks, Emma with bites, and two missing persons." He sighed loudly. "How are we possibly going to catch this thing?"

Mary Margaret patted his thigh, trying to hide her consternation about Emma being targeted. "The same way we've always fought evil, honey. We'll let it come to us."

David gaped at her, much preferring to go on the offensive rather than the defensive. "You do know what you're saying, right?"

"Sure. Emma isn't going to run and hide with this thing coming after her. We'll think of a way to capture and kill it. Have a little faith."

David nodded, wishing for once that he held his wife's conviction.

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**The trap is closing... Review?**


	25. Chapter 25

**Beta-read by Revenessa.**

**Hello Everyone, so sorry for the delay. But I should have the next chapter up in the next 2-3 days. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 25

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David and Mary Margaret knocked on the door of the Drierson home, glancing around at the well-maintained garden surrounded by a black wrought iron fence and gate, a fresh coat of paint recently applied to the cheerful porch. Drierson opened the door with a grin, ushering them in and immediately introducing his wife Anne. All four of them settled in the front parlor, decorated with lace doilies and glass knick-knacks complementing the antique furniture.

David spoke first, addressing Anne. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your brother was found dead in the forest this morning. He was attacked by a wild animal." There was no way David was telling them about Ruby's involvement.

Anne gasped and turned her head into her husband's shoulder while the news washed over her, quiet sobs overtaking her frame. Drierson, however, wasn't surprised at all, hand gently stroking his wife's back.

"Is there anything you can tell me about Carl?" David asked as gently as he could.

Drierson answered for his wife. "He liked trapping animals. Never was sure what he did with 'em after that, but I fixed his traps if they broke. He was quiet and shy, and sometimes mean-spirited." His wife looked at her husband as though he were a traitor, and he answered her unspoken words. "Well, he was."

"Is there any way I can look at his room? We are in the middle of an active investigation." He didn't want to give away any more information than that. David wasn't sure what he was looking for, he knew something seemed to be off about the little man. He hoped he would know it when he found it.

"Carl moved out about a year ago. He lives in the coroner's home. Anne here cleans it for him once a month."

"He lives with the coroner?" Now that was strange indeed. Was Carl involved with his boss? It was hard for David to imagine someone as beautiful as Katrina Istrati even giving a man like Carl the time of day.

"She doesn't live there, or so Anne says. And there's one room upstairs she isn't allowed to clean." Anne's wet eyes turned toward David and she nodded in agreement.

"Is there anything else you know?"

Anne kept her voice down, as though she were betraying the memory of her brother with her words. "He could be cruel. Ever since he was a boy he liked to… hurt things… people… animals. He enjoyed it. I… I… tried to help him, to get him help, but he wouldn't change. I loved him though." She shuddered and her tears fell freely, dampening her husband's shirt.

David stood up, taking Mary Margaret along with him, who had been sitting quietly with an expression of compassion directed at Anne. "Thank you so much for your help. Can you give me the address of Carl's residence?"

David jotted down the address and left the Drierson's with a handshake, Mary Margaret offering gentle condolences before they left.

David immediately pulled out his cell phone as he started up the truck.

"Emma? Hey. You're never gonna believe this… Carl lives at the coroner's house. I'm going to give you the address. Do you think you and Killian could go check it out?... Your mother and I are going to the morgue to see if we can find out if there's more to the connection between Carl and the coroner."

He gave her the address and hung up, telling her he'd call her later. Emma had seemed pretty surprised by all the new information.

Mary Margaret looked over at David, placing her hand comfortingly on his knee, eyes questioning. "Carl's dead because of Ruby, not the vampire. Why are we working so hard to follow this through?"

"I don't know. A hunch maybe? I just think there's more to Carl than meets the eye. Why was he in the hardware store that day? Why does he act so strange? Why is he living in his boss' home? He trapped Ruby to torture her, so it's possible he's hurt others and we need to check where he lives. I know he's not the vampire, but if he was trying to hunt down our citizens, then we need to investigate him." David shook his head, mouth forming a tight line in frustration. "And about the vampire… there are just too many questions and I need to find some answers." He banged his fist on the steering wheel. "I need to protect Emma! Even if none of these things leads me to the vampire, at least I'll be doing something."

Realization dawned on Mary Margaret's face. David was a daddy protecting his little girl. He couldn't just sit back and do nothing while she was in danger. Her lips turned up in a tiny smile, her eyes full of tenderness. "Emma's going to be ok, David. She has all of us to protect her."

"I hope you're right." He set his lips in a harsh line and drove to the morgue.

It was the second time that day Mary Margaret had heard those words.

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Killian and Emma filed into her yellow bug, driving to the address David mentioned and trying to work out what they knew about the case.

A little while later, well away from the main town and any other homes as far as they could tell, they drove up to a tiny but pretty two-story house, painted gray with black shutters on either side of the white-rimmed windows, a couple of steps leading up to the front door landing. Minimal shrubs lined the edges of the house and the yard was filled with trees, probably keeping the house in constant shadow.

Grabbing a couple of flashlights from the back of the bug, Killian and Emma crunched through the leaves, the quiet breeze ruffling their hair as they walked. Emma wasn't sure what they were looking for, so the first thing she did was circle the home, noting the tidiness of the building, the paint looking no more than a couple of years old and the dwelling in need of no obvious repairs. It was perfect, too perfect, a picture straight out of a home décor magazine.

The breeze picked up, leaves swirling gently in the middle of the front yard as the pair made their way back to the front of the house, having found nothing out of the ordinary. Emma smirked over at Killian as she made her way to the front door. "Hey Pirate, want to give me a hand with this?" She handed him a small set for picking locks, knowing he was quite skilled with that one hand.

He winked at her. "As you wish." He had the lock undone in a matter of seconds, opening the door wide with a _Ladies first_ smirk on his face.

The door opened silently, as if the hinges were well-oiled. The first thing Emma noticed was the lack of smell. Every house, every person, everything had a smell, but this house didn't. She couldn't smell anything. Not laundry soap, not cleaning products, perfumes, papers, books, nothing. In fact, the only thing she could detect in the air was the scent of her own shampoo and the characteristic leather and spice combination that was totally and utterly Killian.

Killian followed behind Emma, sweeping his flashlight back and forth. The walls and floors were bare; not a single mirror, painting or photo adorned the colorless expanse. There was a couch in the main sitting room; in the kitchen, a glass top table with two metal-framed chairs with nylon seats, designed to be functional and modern, but cold and impersonal. Behind the kitchen were a small laundry room and a half bathroom. That was it for the main floor. They crept up to the second floor, keeping quiet for some reason, maybe out of respect for the dead man who used to live there.

They found a four poster bed in the second bedroom and not much else other than some men's clothes in the closet they could only assume were Carl's. Creeping toward the master suite, they glanced at each other for just a second before slowly opening the door that didn't make a sound as it swung wide. Their jaws dropped simultaneously.

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Katrina Istrati's eyes had popped open Saturday night, her saliva pooling in the center of her mouth with a bittersweet flavor. She hadn't fed in several days, causing her bloodlust to create a barely perceptible itch that whetted her senses. She licked her full lips, a wicked smile settling itself on her mouth. Tonight she would complete her revenge. Tonight justice would be served.

She took her time getting out of bed, glancing over at her nightstand and noticing the red blinking light on her cell phone, indicating she had a message. A lab tech had called. "Dr. Istrati, I have some bad news. It appears that Carl was attacked by a wild animal last night and didn't survive. I'm sorry that you've lost such a valuable work partner. We'll miss his dedication to the lab."

The message ended and Katrina inhaled deeply, her eyes doing a lazy scan of her room as the news settled over her. She had understood the underlying intention of the message; she had an autopsy to do. In several ways, Carl's death would make things easier for her; it certainly tied up loose ends.

Sighing, she left her bed and began gathering her things, her clothes, her medical books and journals, and the diplomas she had already removed from her office walls, having locked her office door to keep anyone from discovering her plan to leave. She loaded the bed of her truck slowly, savoring the scents and sounds of the forest she had come to know and love. She would soon learn to enjoy life from a new angle.

She loaded up her beloved four-poster bed and night table, the work going quickly with her superior strength. She threw a tarp over the lot and tied it down in case of rain.

This was to be her last kill, so she donned her dark red dress again, barefoot as usual. Her hair fanned around her in perfectly formed curls, her lithe body skimming beneath the velvet fabric hugging her curves. Taking one last look at her surroundings, a sentimental consciousness mingled with the itch of bloodlust into something akin to regret. Shaking her head to find her focus, breathing in the scents and tasting the air one last time, Katrina slid into her truck seat.

She drove into town and beyond, parking well off the road next to the Storybrooke sign where her vehicle couldn't be seen, then flew into the forest, staying just above the tree line to avoid being seen by the light of the waning moon.

Going to Emma's apartment window, she listened for sounds within. When she heard nothing, she opened the pane of glass just to be sure, seeing the room completely empty of furniture. Swan must have moved.

Katrina straightened her body into a thin line, shooting very high up in the air and circling the town, looking for Emma's bright yellow car. She didn't see it anywhere. Continuing to fly in ever-larger circles, her keen eyes trained on the ground, Katrina finally caught a glimpse of the signature color, her face paling as she saw that it was parked at her former home. She was lucky she had picked tonight for her last night in Storybrooke.

She silently alighted to her former front yard, her bare feet coming to rest on the strewn leaves, her toes slightly gripping and pressing her feet into the ground, a flash of the twenty-eight years she'd spent in her home playing across her eyes like a film strip. She almost missed the place.

She glanced at the stars, indicating the time to be somewhere between 9 and 10 pm. Perfect. She could make everything happen well before sunrise, and have plenty of time to drive to the motel in the next town, close the curtains and dream the day away much as she had before the broken curse had awakened her addiction.

Stealthily floating toward the open door, Katrina smelled the couple before she saw them.

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David drove his truck in the direction of the morgue, the shared workplace of Carl and Katrina, hoping that he might find something to further explain the reason Carl was living in Katrina's home. They arrived to find all the doors locked. Because they didn't have the time to wait for a key, he broke into the door they had entered before, flipping on the hallway lights as they came to them, Mary Margaret following closely behind her husband.

Entering the elevator and descending to the basement, David told her to hold her nose, as he placed his face beneath the collar of his shirt. She understood why as soon as the doors opened.

David raced to the main dissecting lab, flicking on the lights as soon as he found them. A large white sheet covered the shape of a body on one of the steel tables. David walked over to it, and gently peeled the covering back. It was Carl.

Mary Margaret hung back, desperate to avoid seeing another dead person when flashes of Mable Anderson's crumpled body still haunted her at odd moments.

David stared at the corpse a moment longer, trying to avert his gaze from the gaping neck wound. Noticing a small discoloration on Carl's shoulder, he moved around behind the corpse's head to see two bite marks that looked exactly like the other two victims. "Hmmm," David thought aloud.

David followed the path to the coroner's office, finding it locked. He kicked open the door and gasped in astonishment. The entire office had been denuded of everything—books, certificates, files. Nothing was left except the furniture and one file cabinet.

David suddenly had an idea. He grabbed Mary Margaret's hand and pulled her behind him as he raced back to the elevator.

"What? What are we doing?"

"We're going to the station."

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Emma and Killian moved into the master suite, completely bare of furniture. Every wall was covered in charcoal drawings, each paper the exact same size as its neighbor. They formed perfect lines, each edge lining up with the perimeter of the next paper as if a level had been used for the simple tacking.

The wall to the left contained drawings of animals, mostly rabbits, squirrels and deer, although there were a couple of foxes. The artwork was actually quite good, light and shadow expertly captured, but as their lights moved down the wall, the drawings became more and more disturbed. The animals went from sitting or standing in quiet positions, drinking water, and eating, to frightened, trapped and finally tortured, limbs and blood splattered across the pages.

Killian and Emma turned as one toward the next wall, this one covered in drawings of wolves resting, running, playing, panting, stalking. Every conceivable posture was skillfully drawn, prominently displayed in the perfect lines along the wall. One row of drawings even looked like they would form a flip book or a cartoon if they were put together. The scene of a wolf bounding after a rabbit raced across several pages until the last picture in which the wolf had caught its prey and was tearing it apart. As their flashlights turned to the next wall, both of them entranced by the intricacy and detail, Emma gasped as she recognized her red-headed friend staring out at her, her attitude and sassy eyes challenging any onlooker with an easy smile.

Emma looked over at Killian and swallowed around a lump in her throat, dread pooling in her stomach as she continued moving her light along the wall, until the drawings of Ruby began to unnerve her—Ruby with cut marks all over her skin, disfiguring her beautiful face with pain, Ruby standing naked over Carl as he lay motionless on the floor beneath her staring lovingly into her distracted face, Ruby eating the heart out of a man.

Killian moved his light further down the wall while Emma kept her eyes on the sketches of Ruby, unable to tear her gaze away from the graphic images.

"Emma!" The sound of her name in the perfect quiet made her jump, and she turned to face Killian. Her eyes followed the perfect circle of light held steady at a particular drawing on the wall. Katrina Istrati glared out at them, beautiful and terrible, with fangs dripping in blood.

"Istrati!" Emma hissed. She moved her flashlight around more quickly, the beam revealing half a wall filled with Katrina in several different situtations, doing an autopsy, biting into a victim, glancing at Carl who looked back at her lovingly.

Emma reached into her pocket to pull out her phone to call David. That would be the last thing she remembered.

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Katrina floated up the stairs of her former home, the stench of the two lovers polluting the fresh air. Katrina was a stickler for maintenance, so as she approached the door of the room they were in, she knew she could push it back without it ever making a sound. Gently edging her way into the room, she saw the pair looking at Carl's drawings of her. She fisted her hands at her sides, sneering with pleasure that he had met his demise earlier that day. Damn the little man for leaving a trace of her identity.

Just then, she saw Killian glance at Emma. His face in the low light looked so much like the last expression she had ever seen on Liam, the day he had turned away from her, leaving her to suffer without so much as a backward glance. Katrina glared at him and her desire for revenge erupted into rage. It was his fault she existed somewhere between the living and the dead. His fault she had suffered hundreds of years of endless thirst. His fault she was always running and moving and nearly neurotic from the constant threat of being captured and caged and destroyed. His fault she never even had a chance at love.

Stalking in slow motion, her unshod feet soundlessly connecting with the wooden floor, she stepped up behind the pair. She continued to move, impossibly slowly, until her head was just outside of Jones' peripheral vision, close to the back of the Swan woman's neck. Then preternaturally fast, she moved forward and bit Swan, bringing her hand high up and over Jones' head. Swan buckled under the attack, and Jones' eyes flew wide as he turned to see Emma's body jerk, a shout forming on his lips. Katrina waited for the recognition in those stormy eyes, and as soon as she saw it, she brought her hand down on the top of his head, hard, instantly knocking him out, abruptly stopping the sound that had escaped his throat, and then doing the same to the woman.

The blood from Emma tasted so good, clean and fresh. But she didn't take much, knowing that the nausea that usually followed was not a distraction she could afford. Sure enough, she felt the thickening in her stomach as the blood settled there. Thankfully, it wouldn't be enough discomfort to keep her from her purpose.

Gathering both unconscious people in her arms, dangling them each over a shoulder the way one would carry a couple of large feed sacks, Katrina left through the front door, and then flew into the night sky, heading deeper into the forest, where she would be safe from prying eyes.

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David hurried to unlock the door of the sheriff's office, Mary Margaret close behind, racing to the computer terminal that had been working on fingerprints several hours earlier. The computer was still on, and he typed in Katrina Istrati's name, searching for her fingerprints on file. Sure enough, "Inconclusive" was typed across the ten boxes that would normally hold the oval shapes. "Gotcha!" Fierce dread with a small measure of excitement surged through David in a nauseating combination now that he had the answer he had so diligently sought for the last several weeks. He knew who he was looking for and needed to warn Emma as quickly as possible.

David looked back over to his wife. "It's the coroner. I'd bet money on it." At Mary Margaret's confusion, he continued quickly, "The fingerprints. Vampires must not have fingerprints, or else I would have found them on at least one of the houses. Everyone in Storybrooke has fingerprints on file except Katrina Istrati."

David picked up the phone and dialed Emma's number.

The phone rang and rang, finally going to voice mail. Mary Margaret watched David's frowning expression like a hawk. "What is it?" she asked, unable to keep a growing sense of panic out of her tone.

"Emma's not answering." David groaned as his heart clenched in fear. He prayed that Emma wasn't in the clutches of the vampire so soon. He needed more time to find her.

Mary Margaret's mother instinct kicked in, and a clear determination settled over her entire body. "Something's wrong. Emma would answer her phone. She knows the seriousness of the enemy we're up against."

"I know. We need to find her, now. I'm going back to the apartment to get my sword and your bow. Something tells me we may need backup weapons in this case."

Taking his hand as he drug her out of the station, she asked "How are we going to find her?"

"Ruby."

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**Review?**


	26. Chapter 26

**Alright, so I had to break this chapter into two since it was so long. Thanks again to all you wonderful readers out there! and thanks bunches to Revenessa.**

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Chapter 26

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Killian's head bobbed a few times before he was able to hold it upright, pain exploding behind his left eye, leaving his mouth as dry as cotton. It took him a minute to remember that he hadn't had any rum the night before. He had been at the coroner's house with Emma. Emma!

He concentrated on getting his eyes to focus, the blurry scene before him slowly coming into view, while at the same time his shoulders began to throb with the awkward angle at which they were stretched. He was on the edge of a clearing, propped against a narrow tree, his arms pulled behind him and tightly tied around the back of the trunk. He could just make out Emma's form collapsed in a pile about five yards ahead. His heart clenched as he remembered his nightmare; Emma was in the same position she had been just before the wolf attacked. "Emma! Emma! Answer me, are you…?"

"Ah, ah, ah, Lieutenant. Let's keep quiet, shall we? We wouldn't want to wake your darling lass." A velvet voice sing-songed its way through each syllable.

Killian rapidly twisted his head toward the lilting tone. The coroner. She was dressed in a long red gown that floated about her bare feet and ankles, her red hair curling softly around her exquisite face. Her lips were as dark as a ruby, _the color of blood_, he though sardonically, her amber colored eyes accentuated without makeup or kohl like he sometimes wore. He found himself once again mesmerized by the beauty in front of him, albeit briefly. She was gorgeous, and yet so cold. Confused and more than a little frantic, he asked, "What are you doing here? What do you have against Emma?" The last question came out in a rush.

"You really don't remember do you?" Her eyes took on a piteous expression as she beheld the disadvantaged Lieutenant.

"Remember what? Woman, I have no inkling of who you are." He struggled against his bonds in frustration, then stopped at her next words.

"Let me give you one hint." She drew out the sounds slowly and carefully, dragging out the sentence as if tasting a sweet meat. "Liam."

"Liam?" A picture of his stalwart brother formed in his mind at her mention of him, and he would have smiled at the memory if the situation had been different. Killian racked his brain, trying to remember who she could be. Liam had been alive three hundred years ago, and Killian couldn't always remember as much as he would have liked.

Seeing him struggle with the memories, Katrina spoke again, even slower this time as though he were mute. "Try this, my dear Lieutenant: Liam, a port town, and a family you abandoned on the docks, the family of the woman your brother loved."

Killian took a sharp intake of breath. "But who are you?... You can't be. You can't be… her."

Katrina smirked at his confusion. "Ahhh, but I am. Let's just say that my transformation may have… altered my looks somewhat."

Killian studied her closely. He didn't remember her hair being so bright, her lips as luscious, nor the cheekbones of her face standing out in plain relief. He didn't remember her whisky colored eyes that shone like a panther's. He had only seen her the one time, and for only a few minutes at that. Her face had not been burned on his soul like it had on his brother's, so it was possible. "Why am I here, and what do you have against Emma?" he asked again, eyes narrowing in distaste.

She threw her head back and laughed; she would humor him. "You were right, I was bitten when my family and I showed up on the pier in front of your ship. But I wasn't transformed, not then. You left us there, and that night, the vampire who came back to finish the job, mutating me into a creature as bold as he was. If you had let us escape, those marks would have healed and my family would have lived."

"What happened to your family?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"I killed them all." She said it simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Killian rolled his eyes heavenward. This was one instance where he, and subsequently Emma, were being punished for something that was just bad luck. Thinking to stall her as long as possible, and determining that she was in a talkative mood, he continued the conversation while he worked at loosening the ropes around his wrists, his hook unfortunately missing. "How could we have known it wasn't a plague? Your whole town was nearly quarantined because of it," he said in exasperation.

She tilted her head to the side, as if considering his words, then grimaced, rejecting them. "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"I can understand your anger toward me, but what do you have against Emma?" He was desperate to loosen the ropes around his wrists. He had to get to Emma. He couldn't see her face because she was curled up on herself facing away from him, and he didn't know how badly she was injured.

"She's your love. So you will lose your love just as I lost mine." She shrugged her shoulders with her palms turned outward in indifference, while her piercing gaze brimmed with pure hate, causing a shiver to go down his spine.

Mouth hardening, Killian stilled his motions, enunciating his next words. "What are you planning to do?"

"Kill her of course." She looked toward Emma's crumpled and unmoving body, a wicked smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Then you'd better kill me too, because I know revenge, and I'll not rest until you're dead," His hand stilled behind his back for a second time as he hissed the words out, emphatically stating his promise. He stole a glance at Emma and breathed a short-lived sigh of relief when he saw her body rise and fall with a deep breath.

Katrina threw her head back in a mirthless laugh. "Oh, ye of little faith. Just killing the two of you would be so _boring_. I'm planning to transform her and then feed you to her. Then I'll tie her to a tree and let the sun incinerate her lovely skin." She ran her tongue over her teeth and rubbed her arms slowly up and down, plainly relishing the sensations of her own touch.

"Where do you plan on going afterward? Her father is not going to let you get away with this." He kept working at the rope, finally gaining a little more play around his tightly bound wrists.

"Across the town line so I can start over." She floated until she stood in front of him, her head tilting to the side, her eyes focused on his mouth. Killian gulped when her hand came to rest on his cheek, his head painfully thumping against the tree as he flinched, but he kept his eyes steadily trained on her while his hand worked silently. She leaned in closely and he thought she might kiss him.

Her lips had nearly brushed his when he asked in a tight whisper, "Then pardon my asking, but what's the point of the revenge if you're not going to remember any of it?" The woman was mad, but it was no wonder with having lost her love and her family all at once. Killian almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

Quickly stepping back and speaking like he was a wayward child who needed careful instruction, she raised her cat-like eyes to his. "Well that's just it, some part always does remember. Even before the curse broke, I knew I had been wronged. I knew. And once the curse was broken, I remembered why. By finishing out this revenge, I'll be truly free for the first time in centuries. I already took my retribution on the one who transformed me, which leaves only you… only you… only you…" Her words trailed off and she lolled her head around, turning her body away from him before putting her hands out toward the forest.

"What happened?" He had to keep her talking; he was racing against the clock. Killian continued working the rope around his wrists, hoping to loosen the knot a little more, or maybe slip his brace off so he could free himself of the restraint.

Whirling back around and glancing at the Swan woman who was still unconscious, Katrina trained her amber gaze on Jones. Deciding to oblige him and relive her delicious vengeance on Gustav, Katrina told Jones the story of how she had bested her childhood friend.

"His name was Gustav, and we grew up together. He wanted to get married, but I never shared his feelings. When the curse came to our town he was transformed, and after learning about the benefits of our kind, he decided to make me into a monster like he was, just to keep me close to him, thinking it would bind me to him forever. We were bound for a time, but after living with his recklessness, I began looking for a way to rid myself of him entirely. The opportunity presented itself one night while we overtook a band of travelers."

Katrina closed her eyes at the memory as the images flooded through her.

"_What are you hiding, little mouse?" Gustav taunted the frightened girl whose hands were clasped behind her back holding a square box. He and Katrina had already fed from the rest of the band—only five other people—and Gustav was always hungry for more._

_Katrina watched from the top of the carriage, intrigued by the scene playing before her. She hated Gustav, but sometimes his methods could be entertaining. _

_The trembling girl jutted her chin forward, silently challenging the muscled man before her._

"_Cheep, cheep." He kept his arms stretched in her direction, as if trying to prove that he wasn't hiding anything, that he was innocent, even though she had just witnessed the slaughter of her traveling companions. "Let's see. How can we get the little mouse to relinquish her treasure? Scare it out of her?" He bared his teeth and fangs, lunging forward quickly and then stepping back as she nearly fell down in reaction._

_She continued to stare at him, wide-eyed in terror, juggling the box behind her, occasionally taking her eyes off him to search for a way out or a possible savior._

_He smiled wickedly and slowly walked toward her, letting his hands splay out to his sides. "I'm going to chew through you the way I chewed through all the rest," he said conversationally. _

_Horrified, she shook her head, not ready to die. "No!" She threw the box at him._

_Gustav had calculated her movements, and put his hands up to catch the box before it fell. She must have unlatched the top before she threw it because the lid fell away, exposing two angry vipers. The snakes instantly sprang forward and bit into Gustav's arms, releasing a full measure of poison. He collapsed, writhing in pain, and the girl ran as fast as she could into the surrounding forest._

_Katrina observed her fallen companion for only a moment, and flew over to where the girl was making a hasty retreat, descending directly in front of her. The girl slid to a stop, panicked, yet steeling herself for the attack she was sure to come. _

_Katrina spoke instead. "Thank you, darling. You just saved me a lot of trouble." She paused, just staring at the frightened young girl before saying, "You may go." Katrina inclined her head and stepped to the side, watching as the girl raced away as fast as she could into the darkness._

_Going back to where Gustav had landed, Katrina stood over him. He had stopped moving, his eyes rolled back into his head. Her kind was immortal, but they could still be wounded, needing blood and rest to recover from nearly any injury. Incapacitated, Gustav moaned as Katrina easily lifted him and flew to the town center, dropping his body in the prisoner hole and securing the grate over the top. He wouldn't have the strength to break out before the sun came up over the horizon, leaving him exposed. He weakly pleaded for his life, but saw her determined gaze, knowing that this was his end. He looked up at her one final time, eyes watery, "I still love you."_

_A naughty smile flashed across her face as she beheld her depraved companion. She shrugged and walked away, free from the suffocating presence of the bothersome farmboy._

Coming back to the present, Katrina twisted around to see if Emma had stirred yet.

Killian's face was a mask, blue eyes staring intensely, having heard the tale and understanding more about how her mind worked. "That was justice. Quite a bit different from revenge, that."

Ignoring what he said, and not really caring anyway, she looked up at the sky to determine the time, and decided to get on with it. She picked up Emma and easily held her by the armpits the way one would pick up a baby, shaking her gently to wake her up.

"No, wait. Please don't do this. You won't get the peace you seek. Believe me, I know. Emma did nothing wrong," he pleaded with all he was worth. His heart beat wildly in his chest; he had just about gotten his leather attachment loosened from his wrist and with just another move, he'd have it off.

Emma's head dropped back, eyes blank and staring. She moaned weakly but didn't try to stand up and support her weight, her ankles hanging limply. Killian ached to see his Swan in such a vulnerable position with him powerless to stop the demented woman as she clamped her jaws on Emma's skin.

"No! No! No!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, cursing his clumsy hand that wouldn't give him enough time to get to Emma, to his love, his stomach souring as he watched the scene play out before him, frantically rubbing the skin on his wrists raw.

Katrina let Emma collapse to the ground again in a crumpled heap, then began turning around in circles, arms outstretched as she danced with her imaginary partner, Liam Jones twirling her in time to the waltz echoing in the back of her mind. She laughed at his twinkling eyes, his strong clasp on her hand as his other gently guided her back. Her hair undulated down her back like a snake mesmerizing its prey, and she turned in circles, dizzying, laughing louder and louder, until her screams reverberated through the trees. Her feet lifted off the ground for a few seconds, spinning, spinning, until she collapsed under the weight of the centrifugal force, just as a horrible wave of nausea overtook her. It was the most Katrina had ever taken from Emma Swan, and now she would pay for it.

Dragging herself over to the collapsed woman and lifting her a bit, Katrina tore open her own wrist with her fangs and placed the dripping appendage over Emma's mouth.

Killian gaped in wide-eyed horror, continuing to work the ropes, praying for a miracle and shouting as loud as he could to distract her.

Katrina's body jerked as Emma roughly pulled the vampire's arm to her open mouth, her throat swallowing hungrily, an eager gleam in her green eyes. Katrina tore her arm away, staggering from the recoil.

Emma slowly rose to her feet in a movement as elegant as any ballet dancer. Killian groaned in abject terror for his love and watched as her face transformed, her eyes taking on a cat-like slant, her hair growing thicker and wavier, shining as brightly as a noon-day sun. He gasped at her enhanced beauty, her stony perfection now reminiscent of a statue—cold and hard.

"Emma Swan." Katrina spoke with authority. When Emma turned her way, she continued gently as though speaking to a small child, "You must feed, darling."

Killian watched the two women with increasing alarm. He noticed everything in that moment—the wind picking up and whipping their hair around their faces, giving them the air of banshees intent on haunting a lonely graveyard, the rough surface of the tree trunk against his back scratching his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the rope burns around his wrists that stung like fire, the weakness in his legs from having stood up for who knows how long. He saw Katrina, who honestly looked a little worse for the wear, her cheeks sallow instead of alabaster, her eyes sunken just a bit and rimmed with dark circles. He could only guess it was because of the blood she had lost when Emma fed from her.

Katrina outstretched her arm in Killian's direction, and Emma twisted her head back and forth between the two of them as she considered the meal she was being offered. Emma brought a slender finger to her mouth, rubbing the pad over her lips before licking them sensually. In any other situation, Killian would have found her motions tantalizing, but as it was, he could only curl his lips in distaste. This Emma was not _his_ Emma. Raising his eyes to hers, Killian's stomach dropped to his toes when he saw the lack of recognition as she beheld him.

A whoosh sounded in the quiet moment, and before Killian could turn his head away from Emma, Katrina had disappeared.

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**Review?**


	27. Chapter 27

**So here's the conclusion. Thanks to all of you who have gone on this ride with me! Your words of encouragement have kept me going. And thanks once again to Revenessa, for always sparking my muse! XXOO, dd**

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Chapter 27

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David, Mary Margaret and Ruby were standing just outside of the clearing; Ruby had successfully tracked Emma and Killian, never having been able to pick up a scent for the coroner herself. As soon as Mary Margaret had a clear shot of the vampire's heart, she had taken it. Her arrow had landed exactly where she knew it would, right through the breast of the monster.

Mary Margaret had no time to celebrate or even notch another arrow for a second hit when Katrina appeared in front of the two women instantaneously.

Katrina shrieked in maniacal glee at their startled expressions, raised her hands to the sides of their faces, and cracked their two heads together hard enough to knock both women out.

Rubbing her hands together over their crumpled forms, she bent to lift them both up, frowning when she couldn't; she lacked the strength. Noting that oddity, but dismissing it as a result of blood loss, she carried the long-haired woman to the clearing first.

David had been standing back, shielded from view, waiting for Mary Margaret to take her shot. The coroner's immediate proximity after the shot was fired had shocked him—he had barely seen the arrow hit its mark before she was standing in front of his wife and Ruby, incapacitating them both with a swift pop of her wrists. It had all happened so fast, that he had no time to react. But when Katrina came back for his wife's body, he had stepped out from behind a tree and plunged his sword deep into her heart.

Katrina began laughing, a hideous, high-pitched cackle that pierced through the sounds of the forest, the hilt still sticking out of her chest. Her yellow eyes flicked to the sword and she chuckled sarcastically, waving her forefinger back and forth, "Tsk, tsk. You can't kill me so easily." Her hypnotic gaze held the deputy's as she slowly advanced on him, his eyes widening in disbelief as several emotions crossed his face, the most prominent being the realization that he was in way over his head. She grabbed David by the throat before throwing him against a tree hard enough to send him into oblivion to join his wife and Ruby.

Killian's legs gave out underneath him as despair filled his consciousness. A bewildered Emma had been watching the quick proceedings, not much time having actually passed, with Killian painfully close to being free. He thought he saw a shadow of doubt cross Emma's features, almost a look of recognition in her gaze when Katrina had unceremoniously dumped Ruby at her feet. He thought he saw Emma flinch as she watched David's body slide down the tree to land in a heap on the ground.

"It looks like you'll get quite a large supper, darling. Perhaps you won't mind sharing a bit?... But first things first." Katrina hadn't bothered to remove the sword from her chest, and she looked absurd with the blade sticking out of her back as she moved over to Emma, and gently stroked Emma's cheek with the back of her hand. Emma leaned into the touch. Katrina's gaze was almost wistful as she beheld the pretty blonde. "You must take him." She nodded over at Killian but kept her eyes on Emma. "These three will keep for awhile."

Emma slowly glided toward Killian, Katrina's blood smeared across her chin in a dark red stain that marred her uncommonly pretty face. Her stony expression and her steady gaze on the pulse point of his neck caused his blood to freeze in his veins, and he knew the indecision he had seen in her beautiful face had been a figment of his own wishful imagination.

Killian couldn't stop his hands from stilling with her approach, hypnotized by the changes in her face. Gaining control over himself, he continued working his brace off his wrist, which by now was nearly free. "Emma, love, look at me." Five words he spoke, and after she looked up at him, they were five words he wished he hadn't. Her normally playful or sarcastic green eyes had flecks of gold in them. What caused his bowels to clench painfully was that they were hollow, completely hollow. Horror filled his being at the thought that his Swan was possibly lost to him forever.

Emma stopped directly in front of him, sizing him up the same way she had when they had first met, only this time it wasn't with distrust, it was with indifference. Her distant, chilly gaze unnerved him, and he found himself shrinking from her unbroken stare. She was a wraith of the woman he loved, a usurper who had taken on his Swan's form.

She lifted her hand to his chest, her fingers lightly grazing the hair at his open collar, her lips parting slightly as if enthralled by the feel of it, rolling the strands between her fingers. Still touching his chest, she bent her face close to his, allowing her lips to graze his skin near his collar. He never failed to shiver when her mouth played at his neck as she was just then. But this time he was shivering with dread, waiting for the awful pinprick that would quickly bring about his demise.

Katrina observed from a slight distance, a mixture of longing and triumph suffused on her features, belied by her white hand firmly gripping her stomach, and the slight bend in her form that indicated she was uncomfortable.

Emma lingered at Killian's pulse point, and then inhaled deeply, once, twice and then a third time. Her breath on his neck felt strangely erotic, her nose skimming his skin up and down his neck and shoulder for a long minute. He closed his eyes against the sensations that flooded his brain.

His eyes popped open when she abruptly stopped her movements and bolted upright. In barely a whisper, she said, "Killian?" just as he freed his wrists from the ropes. Her eyes were clear and green again, albeit confused.

"Emma, love." Killian's arms encircled Emma gently, and he understood—this was a curse, nothing more than a curse. Looking into his sweet Swan's face, seeing her as he always had, and not what she had become, he kissed her lightly on the mouth at first, Katrina's thick blood staining his lips and leaving a strange metallic flavor in his mouth. She didn't smell like Emma, didn't taste like Emma, but the way she moved her mouth was inherently Emma. All of Killian's belief in what they shared, in what they were to each other, poured from his lips into hers as he deepened the kiss. Killian had never kissed anyone as if his life depended on it, but he did now. And he knew. Knew without a doubt that she was there, trapped inside this body that he was holding against his own. His Emma, his Swan, his love, she was with him, bound to him body and soul, and he would never stop fighting for her or for them.

A golden power surge from true love's kiss radiated out from them in a circle, like a shock wave.

The forceful tremor hit Katrina square in the chest, the conflicted expression on her face hardening.

Killian broke the kiss and turned his head toward Katrina, having felt the magic release a moment before. She looked dazed. Her hair began to lose some of its luster, her eyes lost their cat-like sheen, and her face regained the bloom of youth as her cheekbones filled out. Killian then recognized the young woman his brother had fallen in love with so long ago.

Katrina collapsed, the sword still in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the full awareness of what she opposed hit her. Jones had found his true love, which meant that Emma had found hers. The Swan woman's blood had been slowly poisoning her, causing headaches and nausea and mistakes, terrible mistakes. Swan's blood had been breaking her own curse. As the realization dawned on her, her mouth formed a perfect "o," and her entire body went rigid. She vaguely recalled Liam's face as he bent over her smooth hand, promising adventure and love, the memory gentling her eyes before they stared unblinkingly at the night sky.

Killian breathed a sigh of relief, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and allowed his forehead to relax against Emma's for a moment. He pulled back from her and looked into her eyes, recognizing his Swan staring out of the green orbs before she gently closed them and went limp in his arms.

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Emma slowly opened her eyes to the steady beeping of the machines in a hospital room. Her head was aching, her body was sore, and she felt like hell. She groaned in defeat; she was back in the hospital again.

Her pirate was sitting next to her, head resting on his forearms on the edge of the bed, snoring softly. Watching his relaxed face for a moment, she picked up her hand and ran it languidly through his hair, loving the silky feel of the dark tresses contrasted against her white fingers. His breathing stilled and he captured her hand on his head, quickly lifting his brilliant blue gaze to hers, relief plain in his features, a bright cheerful smile lighting up his face. "Swan!"

His smile was infectious, her lips following his into a tired grin. "What happened?"

He leaned forward and kissed her, his soft lips hovering over and around hers as he inhaled her breath. Sitting back down and watching her closely, he asked, "What do you recall?"

Her brows furrowed together in confusion, trying to remember. "I remember being in Carl's house, looking at all those drawings." She shuddered as she thought of all the lifelike sketches.

"That was three days ago. You've been unconscious since then."

"Oh." She patted his hand and then fell against the pillows, eyes closed and retreating back into the land without dreams.

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"Mom!" Henry raced into the hospital room, eager to see his mom who was finally awake, but stopping short when he saw how pale and sickly she looked. Each time he had come to the hospital, she had been unconscious. He'd only been told that she had collapsed from the anemia again. He didn't understand all of that; she had always been so strong. But he knew he couldn't lose her when she was so new in his life.

"Hey, kid." Emma spoke weakly, lifting her hands to let him know it was okay for him to hug her, and then wrapping him in an embrace when he fell across her semi-reclining form.

Killian quietly left his chair to give them some time alone.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Grandpa told me you were sick and then I thought about the last words I said to you and they were angry…" He was crying now, speaking quickly, his voice thick with emotion.

Emma stroked his head, just holding her son and grateful for the moment of forgiveness, unable to think more clearly beyond just enjoying the simple pleasure of holding her son. "I'm sorry too, Henry. I never meant for my relationship… difficulties to hurt you."

"I know, I know. I was just disappointed is all. I know you can't help who you love." He kept his face buried in her chest.

"You sound like your grandmother." Emma chuckled lightly. "Forgiven?"

Henry smiled. "Yeah. Besides, now I can ask Hook to give me sailing lessons." He squeezed her tightly and then stood back up.

Emma grinned, ruffling Henry's hair, glad that he'd found a reason to be happy again. She loved that he didn't hold grudges for very long. It would serve him well in life and protect him from accumulating as much baggage as she had.

"So catch me up on what's been going on with school."

Henry grinned and launched into a long-winded tale about everything that had been happening to him that week, and they spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the easy camaraderie of a close mother-son relationship.

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Dr. Whale was very surprised that Emma had survived the tremendous loss of blood, but nevertheless released her from the hospital two days later after four pints of blood and the accompanying fluids. Her body was sore, but recovered for the most part. The sun shone brightly as she emerged from the square building in a wheel chair, and she quickly covered her eyes against the glare.

The nurse rolled her wheelchair over to David's truck, and they helped her settle herself into the front seat. David smiled at her. "Good to see you up and about."

She smiled back, taking a deep breath of fresh air and glad to be free from the cloying hospital scents of disinfectant, sickness and wounds. "Where's Killian?" She hadn't seen him since early that morning, although he hadn't left her side except the day Henry had visited, sleeping in the cramped chair meant for visitors and eating in the cafeteria.

"He's at your place, waiting for you, I imagine." David smiled and patted her knee. "Your mother has cooked you a big pot of chicken noodle soup and biscuits so you'll have some comfort food for your recovery, and Killian has assured us he'll take good care of you while you get your strength back."

"Sounds nice." Emma squinted as she stared out the window, a feeling of unreality settling over her as the town passed by through the pane of glass. She definitely did not feel like herself yet.

They arrived at her house a few minutes later. The delicious smells of soup and baking greeted Emma as she walked in the door, and she paused in the entrance to inhale deeply before looking around for Killian, David on her heels with her bag of belongings.

Turning toward the living room, she gasped in delight at the homey changes: several pretty candlesticks had been carefully placed throughout the room, two mirrors with simple golden frames hung on either side of the entertainment center and complimented the deep red and gold rug that sat under the coffee table. There were cheerful little knick-knacks here and there, a couple of wall sconces—nothing obnoxious, just cozy. She raised her head to see Killian emerging from her bedroom, blue eyes glinting in expectation.

She ambled forward and threw her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear. "Definitely not an Indian brothel."

He pulled back a little, smiling at her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Are you sure, love? I have other options available you know." He quirked an eyebrow up at her.

"You saved me." The quiet words punctuated the stillness that had settled around them amid the sounds of Mary Margaret's and David's movements in the kitchen.

A shadow passed over his face and he stiffened. "Saved you? You would have never been taken if I hadn't been so bloody careless, leaving the door unguarded."

"How could you possibly know that?" she scolded, while frustration clouded his handsome features. She gave him a quick kiss, attempting to coax his smile back out. "Look at me, I'm okay."

He had been silently berating himself for days, the helplessness and despair combining with the fear from the entire ordeal knotting in his stomach so that he hadn't eaten a proper meal nor had much sleep since that fretful night. He had to know that he could protect her from such things, from such creatures. He had to know that this wouldn't happen again.

But at her insistence, he did look at her. Her clear green gaze easily held his, the color was returning to her cheeks, and she was standing up taller instead of slightly hunched from fatigue.

He allowed some of his tension to ease, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. He turned into her touch and kissed the palm of her hand, silently wishing her parents would make a quick exit.

Emma turned and they walked hand and hand into the kitchen to see Mary Margaret drying her hands on a towel and David sitting at the kitchen table looking at something on his phone. She embraced Emma saying, "I'm so glad you're ok."

Emma smiled. "Me too. And thanks for all of this." She swept her hand around to indicate the cooking and the decorating.

"The cooking is mine, but the decorations were all him." She pointed to Killian and grinned.

Emma hugged her mother again warmly, squeezing extra tight and whispering into her ear, "Congratulations on the baby."

Mary Margaret stilled, surprise in her face as she pulled back from Emma, Killian still standing off to the side. "H… How did you know?" She and David had decided to wait a couple of weeks before telling anyone.

"I overheard you guys talking in the hospital. You probably thought I was asleep."

Mary Margaret remembered having a conversation about their baby out in the hospital hallway, but Emma's door had been closed and no one was around. She'd have to ask David if he had accidentally mentioned it to her. "Are you okay with it?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course I'm okay with it. You guys deserve a baby you can actually raise." Emma gave her mother a gentle smile, reassuring Mary Margaret that all was well between them.

Mary Margaret brusquely rubbed at the tears that had just begun to form in her eyes. She kissed Emma lightly on the cheek and gathered her purse. "Come on, David, let's get out of their hair." Then to Emma she said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Coffee at Granny's? 4pm?"

"I'll be there." Emma smiled and waved as her parents drove away.

Emma and Killian sat down to a nice meal, complete with rum and red wine, Emma picking extra pieces of chicken out of the pot to add to her bowl, trying to satisfy her craving for extra protein, and wishing Mary Margaret would have fixed beef stew instead.

They retired to the couch, just touching, Emma's head on his shoulder as he quietly filled her in on the events she had missed. She listened to his rolling voice, each syllable passing through his chest with a rumble that eased any lingering questions about their ordeal in her mind. The scent of his linen shirt mingled with the rum and spiciness that was uniquely his, filled her nostrils and blotted out all other thought. She ran her hand along his arm, lightly tracing the tiny scars from countless fights, enjoying the feel of his hand in her hair as he stroked the long tresses in time to his beating heart.

Sufficiently relaxed from the wine, and feeling stronger than she had in weeks, she stood up, offering Killian her hand. He took it and let her guide him to the bedroom. She gasped at her new sexy bedroom décor: a soft coverlet blanketed her bed, a couple of brocaded pillows with tassels tossed on top, and three different colored saris tacked to the ceiling made a canopy above the bed. The gold stitching in the brightly colored silken cloth sparkled in the low light. Another matching length of silk covered the window. Emma turned to her pirate, eyes glowing with pleasure. "It's just beautiful. Simply beautiful."

"I guessed as much," he smirked, pleased with himself that he'd been able to indulge his lass.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her lips to his, gentle yet insistent. He responded immediately, allowing all his worry to melt into the feel of her soft body molding into his. He opened his mouth, tracing her lips with his tongue, breathing her in, her taste awakening his desire, a low moan escaping his throat.

Emma allowed him to trail his kisses from her mouth down the side of her cheek, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck. She put her face next to his, inhaling his skin, loving his scent that put her body in orbit. Suddenly distracted by an odor on his skin, nearly covered up by the soap he had used earlier that day, she lifted her head to ask, "When did you go by the station?"

Killian waited a moment before he answered, the question barely registering since his brain had replaced thought with sensation. "Um… The station?... Oh, yesterday for a little bit while you were with Henry. David offered me a part time job as deputy. Wait, how did you know I went by the station? Did he tell you?"

"No. Your skin smells like files and paper." She kept her eyes partially closed, allowing her nose to guide her, just drinking in his incredible scent.

"Does it bother you that we might be working together?" he asked gently, lifting her face and searching it for any sign of disappointment.

"No, of course not. We've worked together before. I think we make quite the team." She smirked cheerfully up at him, echoing his words from the beanstalk.

Killian happily bent down to kiss her again, completely filled with love for his spunky little lass who'd captured his heart. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers unbuttoning his jeans so that her hand could slip beneath his waistband to the most malleable part of his body. He arched into her and pulled her shirt over her head, bending his head to cover her shoulder with wet kisses, groaning in response to her touch.

He needed her, needed this connection with her. His heart had nearly ripped from his chest as he had helplessly watched his Swan being attacked, his terrifying nightmare playing out before his eyes. He tightened his arms around her, ready to take her now, to feel all of her.

They fell into bed together, shedding the rest of their clothes rather quickly.

Emma's breath caught at the heat radiating from his body as he fell on top of her. The strong smells of cardamom and rum sang through her as every pore came alive, every hair standing in homage to the chills her pirate's touch sent through her. Each sensation overwhelmed her brain, her quickened heartbeat echoing loudly in her ears, and she found herself savoring her newly heightened senses, throwing her head back with a delicious laugh.

Passion anchored a firm grip in her lower body and Emma pressed into Killian's touch as he trailed kisses down her collarbone and lower, exquisitely lower. His skin under her hands was almost too hot to touch, his thick hair impossibly soft and downy as she scraped her fingers across his scalp.

She felt the slow build-up as Killian continued his trail, breath catching with every flick of his tongue, every cell aching for him to go lower, his scruff burning her skin as he moved, the wetness of his mouth a welcome coolness on her scorching skin.

Killian couldn't get enough of his lass. She smelled like fresh light, and he was ready to consume her. He glanced back up to her face, eyes closed and chest heaving, a faint glow just beginning to surround them. He smiled up at her gorgeous form, then ducked his head back down, remembering the last time she had released a fireball, and briefly wondering if he was going to have to go back to the hardware store for more sandpaper.

When she opened her eyes to watch her pirate's ministrations on her body, he missed the flecks of gold that had just begun to twinkle in her whisky-colored gaze.

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**Do you hate me? Please review if you can. And thanks for reading!**


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